


The Café Down the Street

by limesicle



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, M/M, Self-Hatred, Social Anxiety, baker!Haru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limesicle/pseuds/limesicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru has managed to win his gold medal and has retired to a quiet life in Tokyo. An unexpected encounter with Sousuke brings with it feelings he wishes he didn't have along with a horde of other things. They aren't friends, and they never have been, but there's a sort of understanding between them that's undeniable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This fic isn't supposed to be happy. It probably will have some sort of happy ending, but no guarantees. I identify with Haru on a very personal level, so I gave him some of my issues. I'm sorry.
> 
> If you're expecting smut, don't. Well, probably not.

 

At 25 years old, Haruka Nanase leaves the professional swimming circuit. He’s won his gold medal, and now he’s just an ordinary man. That’s what he tells himself anyway. But now he finds himself goalless, like the last year of high school, and he finds himself wandering. He stays in Tokyo. The buzz of the big city is calming and the mere presence of so many other humans is comforting even if he doesn’t want to interact with them.

 

Rin is still touring with the Australia team shooting for his second and last chance before 30 to make it to the Olympic stage once more. Haru doesn’t have the same motivation to keep on swimming and knows it would be bad for his health. His limits have been reached and there’s no need to cause himself unnecessary suffering. His left shoulder started to hurt in the last few rounds of the Olympics, and he has no intention of making it worse.

 

Rin hasn’t bothered him about quitting, and for that, Haru is thankful. The distance between them is growing, however, and while still friendly, they’re not close. The same goes for Makoto. Back in high school, Haru couldn’t think of a future that Makoto was not involved in. Times changed and broke them apart. Makoto spent his time helping coach the Japan team and helping coach Haru in particular, but now that Haru’s competitive time is done, Makoto has returned to Iwatobi. He works alongside Sasabe, their old coach, to teach the next generation of swimmers. Haru plans to return to Iwatobi for the upcoming winter holidays, and Makoto still calls him once a week, but it’s not as close a relationship.

 

Haru currently lives in a small Tokyo apartment. He sits on a bank account full of his own savings and a monthly supplement from his parents. It’s enough to survive, but the amount is hardly excessive. Haru knows he needs to find a job, and soon, but going to work has always seemed limiting. He’s glanced through job postings on the internet, and nothing has caught his eye. Today, he walks into a little coffee shop–it’s called “Little Bean”–and goes up to the counter. It’s the least offensive potential place of work he’s seen so far. He figures it’s a place to start.

 

The café is small, with seating for only a dozen people, but it is clean and the air has a pleasant vibrancy in it. Haru pauses before speaking to the woman behind the counter. She wears a nametag that Haru doesn’t bother to read.

 

“Excuse me. I saw you were looking to hire.” Haru speaks without looking up.

 

Her eyes rest on him for a moment, and he wonders if he’ll be recognized as an ex-Olympian. He doesn’t particularly mind the fame, but he’s always been someone who prefers not being noticed. Thankfully, she doesn’t figure out his identity, or at least doesn’t say anything.

 

“Here’s the application. Fill it out and we’ll get back to you.”

 

She hands him a piece of paper asking for name and work experience and so on and a ballpoint pen. Haru takes it and sits down at an empty table. The café is nearly empty at this time of day. There’s one student type who is sitting off to the side with shoulders hunched over a laptop computer, but the rest of the tables are unoccupied. Haru smooths the paper against the table and looks at it. He doesn’t really have work experience to speak of, but he has a college degree and a gold medal. That has to count for something, right?  Ten minutes later, he rises from his seat, caps the pen, and hands the woman behind the counter the application back. She thanks him with a nod, and Haru leaves Little Bean.

 

It’s still early in the day as the glass door swings shut with a little jingle. There’s a chime hanging above the doorframe. A cool October breeze runs through Haru the moment he stands on the street, and he gathers his jacket a little more closely around his shoulders. His jacket is light and unsuited to the weather. A small shiver wracks his frame. Maybe he should head home.

 

Haru spends the better part of the next week in his apartment, leaving once every day to go to the gym and the pool. While he’s not a pro athlete anymore, he uses exercise as a means of letting off steam, and he needs to swim or the thoughts in his head will become overwhelming. The rest of the time, Haru spends drawing huddled in the couch in his living room. While he’d always been artistic, Haru never took drawing seriously until the last couple years. It was a way to let stress go that didn’t require searching for a pool. It’s convenient and leaves a record. Haru likes searching through his sketchbooks to trace the path his emotions have taken.

 

This week, he draws seascapes. It’s nothing unusual in itself, but he’s been drawing sunsets. He wonders if there’s something symbolic in the setting of the sun. Haru is sitting with a blanket over his legs and the sketchbook in hand when his phone rings. It takes a moment before he remembers that he needs to answer this call in case it’s his potential employer. It takes another moment to free himself from the blanket and cross the couple step’s distance to the kitchen counter.

 

“Hello?” He answers.

“Is this Nanase-san?” The voice on the other end of the phone is unfamiliar.

“Yes.”

“We’d like you to work a shift to see if it’s a fit. Is that alright with you?”

 

Haru nods, then realizes he’s on the phone.

 

“Yes. What time?”

 

They settle on a two o’clock on Tuesday, which is the day after next, and Haru hangs up the phone. The possible responsibility hangs over his shoulders. Will he really remember to go to work when he needs to? Haru lets himself rest on the couch once more. It’s another change in his life, and he’s not sure if it’s a positive or negative.

 

At 1:00 pm on Tuesday, Haru pulls himself out of the bathtub and towels off. There’s only a light nervousness in his chest as he dresses. His fingers fumble for a second on the buttons of his collared shirt, but he’s relaxed by the time he leaves his apartment and locks the door. When he comes back, he’ll either still be jobless or not. The walk to the café takes the remaining twenty minutes until the appointed time, and he arrives exactly as the clock on the wall turns to 2.

 

He takes one breath to brace himself as he pushes the door open and the chime sounds.

 

“Nanase?” The person behind the counter greets. This time, it’s a man he doesn’t recognize. He looks to be in his twenties or early thirties. He has nondescript brown hair and eyes.

 

Haru nods in response.

 

The session lasts for three hours, shorter than a usual shift, but it’s only supposed to be a test. The man shows Haru how to operate the coffee machine and where the pastries are kept. In the back, Haru catches a glimpse into the kitchens.

 

“We make all the baked goods here. If you want to help out, the head baker can be a bit nasty, but it could be worth a shot.”

 

Haru affirms with a slight incline of the head. Baking would get him farther away from the eyes of the customers, and he has a little experience.

 

“When can I talk to him?” Haru asks. There’s a nervousness in his chest now that gnaws at him, and it takes effort to get the question out.

 

“He comes in about 6 to get things ready for the morning. He’ll be here in about fifteen–you’re done by the way. The manager will call you tomorrow.”

 

With that, Haru’s test shift is over. He removes the light blue apron he borrowed for the shift and hangs it up in the break room. At 5:53, he returns to the front of the café. It would make sense to stay and talk to the baker if he wants to work, but anxiety is gripping at his heart. Haru relaxes into an empty seat, the last one in the café, and tries to steady his breathing. When the head baker comes in, Haru is bent over the table with his forehead resting in his palms. He hardly notices the man, but he hears the baker exchange words with the man behind the counter, and his ears prick when he hears his own name.

 

Haru steadies himself on the table and stands. The head baker eyes him, and Haru lets his eyes wander. It’s uncomfortable being scrutinized, but the harsh stare is gone within a minute, and the man goes to the back of the café. Haru follows him, despite anxiety and growing fatigue. He’d forgotten how exhausting it was to be around other people for an extended period of time. He promises himself only a few more minutes, and pushes through the swinging door to the kitchen.

 

“Takahashi,” the baker introduces himself, extending a large-palmed hand.

 

Haru takes it after a moment of hesitation. The baker’s hands are warm and lightly calloused. They envelop Haru’s own. He’s glad the handshake only lasts a second.

 

“Nanase.” Haru doesn’t bother to force a smile.

 

“So you want to bake?” Takahashi asks, and Haru nods.

“Yeah, I could use some help. Have time now?”

 

Dread pools in Haru’s stomach. Turning away at this point might be job suicide, and he really does want to have a source of income. Haru bites the inside of his cheek.

 

“Just a little.”

 

Takahashi offers him a wide smile that Haru doesn’t return.

 

“Wash up. You can help me put some bread together.”

 

The water that runs over Haru’s palms is calming. It’s not the same as taking a bath, but the simple presence of the clear liquid settles a bit of his nerves. Of course, he wants to go home and soak in the bath, but responsibility holds him where he is.

 

Haru holds his hands up letting droplets of water run off his fingers into the sink. Takahashi points him to the towel rack, and Haru reluctantly dries his hands. Haru follows Takahashi’s instructions and helps him knead the dough. He helps divide it into smaller balls of dough and sets it to rest off to the side of the room.

 

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Takahashi comments.

 

At this point, all Haru can muster is an exhausted nod and a slight hum in response.

 

“You’re quiet, but I like you. You’re welcome to be my assistant baker. I usually come in from about 6 to 10 in the evenings and then I’m back at 5. Join me tomorrow evening?” Takahashi offers another soft smile, and Haru nods.

 

He’s got the job, and before he collapses from exhaustion, he heads for the door. It’s dark outside, but the streetlights do their job. Haru remembered to grab a warmer jacket before leaving today, so the cold is slightly less unbearable. The wind is still biting, and it stings his cheeks. The cold serves to keep him awake as he makes his way home, leaving the brightly lit town center behind him.

 

Three weeks later, Haru is trusted enough to both help Takahashi and run the counter as the café closes down. Fifteen minutes until 8, the closing time, the door swings open and Haru feels his heart stop for a second. Bright, teal eyes capture his, and Haru has half a mind to announce that the café is closed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet. They don't fall in love. Not yet, anyway.

The chime for the door rings loud in the emptiness of the café. Haru just finished wiping down the tables and the counter. Most of the baked goods leftover from the day have been cleared from the glass case. People usually don’t come in after 7. Haru nearly drops the plate he picked up from a table, but manages to hang on to it, gripping the porcelain tightly in his hands. His heart pounds loudly in his chest. Memories from the past surface: swimming and tension–drowning.

 

It takes a great deal of effort not to flee. Haru has always been on the flight side of fight-or-flight, and he owes nothing to the man in the door. However, he works here now, at Little Bean, and if he values his job, he can’t escape. With hands that tremble only slightly, Haru sets the plate on the counter along with the rag he had been using to wipe the tables.

 

“Can I help you?” He asks. His voice is curt, and he doesn’t look up as he speaks.

 

Haru feels the slight tremors as the other makes his way right up to the counter. His heart hammers in his chest, and he’s almost surprised he can stand steadily. Haru doesn’t look up as the other presence comes closer. They haven’t seen each other for a couple years. The last time was at a competition, that both Rin and Haru swam in. Haru steals himself and forces his head upward. One fist curls on top of the counter, his fingers tighten in an effort not to shake too badly.

 

Their eyes level. Haru’s question is almost forgotten. The tense air between them is almost reminiscent of that of the vending machine incident so many years ago. It feels like the small steps toward friendship they made have been forgotten.

 

“I just want a latte.”

 

“What size?”

 

“Medium.”

 

Their conversation so far is stilted. Customer service isn’t usually this difficult. Haru is grateful for the chance to turn his back on the other as he reaches for the disposable cup and flicks a switch on the coffee machine. He hesitates before turning back to ring the order up.

 

“Nanase.”

 

Haru freezes, the blood pounding through his body coming to a sudden halt. They aren’t friends. There’s no reason to talk or be anything other than customer and employee.

 

“Yamazaki,” he replies. His eyes are anywhere but Yamazaki’s face, and he hopes his voice sounded steady.

 

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

 

The silence returns as Yamazaki hands over a credit card. The only sound is that of the steam coming from the coffee machine and the clicks of the keys as Haru types the order into the cash register. Haru hands back the plastic card and turns his back on Yamazaki once more.

 

“Here,” Haru hands him the latte. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“I’m not stupid, Nanase.”

 

The door swings shut with another chime a moment later, and it leaves Haru still recovering from the anxiety of seeing an old acquaintance. He picks up the plate from the counter and goes back into the kitchen. Takahashi sends him home a little early that night, and Haru doesn’t complain. The walk home is cold and seems to take longer than usual. Haru notices more things as he walks. The people he passes by come in pairs and triplets. Most of them are walking towards the center of town instead of away. Vaguely, Haru remembers that it’s a Saturday night. Most people are social on Saturday nights.

 

When Haru enters his apartment, he sheds his jacket and shoes, not bothering to line them up properly. His shirt is next and so on. By the time he reaches his bathroom door, he’s completely naked. There’s a chill in his apartment, but at least the water runs warm. He releases a sigh as he sinks into the tub a few minutes later. He wishes he never had to leave.

 

As he sits in the steadily cooling water, Haru thinks back to his encounter with Yamazaki. He wonders why Yamazaki was there at all. It’s a strange time to be at a café on any night, and especially on Saturday. It’s not his place to know, and Haru tries to turn his mind away from Rin’s best friend, but it doesn’t work. He thinks of shoulder pains and swimming. He thinks of the heat of competition and drowning. His mind spins with thoughts of things he thought he was past, and he sinks deeper into the water.

 

Later, he’s not sure how much later, Haru rouses himself. He’s been staring at the white wall of the bathroom for the past however-long, and his heavy eyelids tell him it’s time to sleep. Haru stands in the tub, the water running down his bare skin. The gentle plink, plink of water droplets hitting the water in the tub accompany him as he steps onto the bath mat. Haru turns to look at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He sees an adult, but he sees the high school boy coming through. The only large change in his appearance is his more defined muscles both as a result of training and losing body fat. He runs his hands over his shoulders. This is the body of an Olympian. He doesn’t think it looks like much.

 

Haru lies in bed that night with his eyes open to a dark ceiling. He had been steady before, stuck in a boring routine, but, somehow, Yamazaki has upset that balance. Haru knows Yamazaki is a catalyst for change in his life in a way that his friends aren’t. Makoto is support. Rin is challenge. Rei and Nagisa are there, and they have a lively energy that Haru has always appreciated. But it’s different. Yamazaki attracts his thoughts and seeps into his dreams that night.

 

That night’s illusions consist of swimming. In itself, it’s not an unusual dream. The crowds around him remind him of his nightmares the last year of high school. Chains bind him and hold him back as he tries to swim forward and then he stops–is stopped. Haru struggles against invisible bonds that hold him back. He fights to swim forward, kicks out at the water, but this water is hostile. That realization chills him. The temperature drops, and Haru finds himself freezing as he still struggles to swim.

 

A hand reaches towards him through the darkness. It’s the reassurance that someone else is with him that lets him break the bonds holding him back. He reaches to take the hand but it dissolves in front of him. And then he’s walking. His footsteps echo down a hollow tunnel, and there’s a bright light at the end. A figure appears silhouetted in the glow of the end of the tunnel, but Haru cannot tell who it is.

 

He wakes with a start, his hand itching to reach out to something beyond his gaze. He looks at his alarm clock to see that it’s only four in the morning. Haru sits up in bed, his heart beating like he’d just swum a race. It takes a few minutes for him to calm down again, and he’s left with an uneasy feeling. It settles in the back of his mind. Haru turns onto his side and tries to sleep again.

 

At 8:00 am, he wakes with a name on his lips. He can taste the syllables in his mouth, but he can’t finish it. Haru feels unrested and uncomfortable. Even a soak in his bathtub hardly calms him down. He cooks breakfast absentmindedly and nearly burns his mackerel as a result. It only takes until 9:00 for him to finish. Usually, Haru is happy to spend time in his apartment simply drawing with the TV on for background noise, but today, he feels the itch to do something.

 

Haru leaves his apartment for the gym and does his best to exhaust himself swimming laps. A couple of hours later, his chest is heaving, but there’s still a restlessness settled deep within. He sighs heavily and hoists himself up on the side of the pool. The public pool is usually empty at this time, and it’s peaceful to swim alone. Today the water doesn’t calm him, it agitates him. Haru walks to the side and grabs a towel. He’s begun to dry his hair when the door opens, and Haru finds himself frozen once more.

 

“Yamazaki.” It’s less of a greeting than a statement.

 

He sees Yamazaki’s eyes widen, the bright teal flashing in recognition. Yamazaki’s usual stony face cracks into a smile.

 

“I should have known,” he says with a quiet laughter rumbling in his words. The sound is unfamiliar to Haru’s ears but not unwelcome.

 

“You sound happy,” Haru murmurs.

 

Yamazaki’s face reflects shock and maybe a little offence. Haru lets his face show a tiny bit of amusement at that.

 

“It’s not a bad thing.”

 

There’s a silence between them as Yamazaki sets down a bag of his things, and Haru continues to dry his hair.

 

“You’re talkative today,” Yamazaki adds.

“Not particularly.”

 

Yamazaki snorts proceeding to stretch out. Haru notices that he spends a little more time on his right shoulder than his left and wonders if it still hurts. Haru’s on shoulder twinges as if in sympathy.

 

“You want to eat lunch sometime?”

 

Haru has to turn around to make sure that it was actually Yamazaki who spoke. It had to be; there was no one else in the pool, but the gesture is unexpected and somehow forward.

 

“You mean after you swim? Sorry, but I don’t want to wait around.” Haru doesn’t exactly mean to turn him down. Social contact isn’t always a negative, and Yamazaki’s presence isn’t as much of a drain on his energy as some other people’s.

 

“I meant later–like tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

 

Yamazaki looks like he’s beginning to regret asking. Haru tilts his head to the side. He knows Makoto would be happy if he had more friends.

 

“Why not?” Haru replies. “Noon?”

“Sure.”

 

Haru leaves before Yamazaki finishes stretching. While he’s mildly interested as to how much the other is swimming, he doesn’t want to intrude. He showers briefly to rid himself of chlorine, then dresses in the locker room. He leaves the pool somewhat calmer than how he entered, though his muscles are complaining at the unusual amount of exercise.

 

It occurs to him when he gets home that he has no idea where he’s supposed to be meeting Yamazaki. Haru scrolls through the list of contacts in his phone. It’s a possibility that Rin added Yamazaki’s number when he wasn’t looking. Sure enough, he finds a contact filed under the name “Sou.”

 

Haru texts a quick “where are we meeting?”  And then sets his phone aside. He still has several hours left before his work shift, so he settles into the couch to draw. The air in his apartment is still. The only sound that accompanies him is the quiet scratch of the pencil of the drawing paper. Time passes as he draws, and it’s hard to tell how much. The stories in his mind find themselves flowing out onto the paper, and Haru loses himself in the process. It’s calming. He lets as much stress and anxiety as he can onto the paper, so that it’s not inside anymore.

 

He’s rudely called back to the real world by a buzz from his phone. Reluctantly, he sets his sketchbook aside, and picks it up. “Sou” has responded. Before he even looks at the text, Haru changes the name to “Yamazaki,” feeling more comfortable with that then the casual nickname Rin uses. After fiddling with his phone for a few minutes, he resolves to actually look at the text.

 

_Is this Nanase?_

_Yes_ , Haru sends his response.

 

Haru settles himself into the couch once more; this time with his phone in easy grabbing distance. The drawing he’s working on is full of fantastical sea creatures. Most of his drawings have to do with the ocean, but Haru occasionally draws birds as well. On very rare occasions, he draws humans–sometimes his friends and sometimes people he’s just seen walking by. Today, he sticks purely to the fantastical. His phone buzzes again as he details a mermaid’s tail. He finishes the last pencil stroke before reaching for the device.

 

Yamazaki gives him the name of a sandwich shop in the commercial district where Little Bean is. He wonders if Yamazaki is being considerate, or if the shop just happens to be nearby.

 

_k._

  
Haru doesn’t feel the need to make an elaborate response, and so he doesn’t. Yamazaki will deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, it's still fairly light and happy. I've actually written a few more chapters, but I want to space it out. As it is now, I'm looking to write a happy ending. We'll see if I can stick to it. I'm not the best with happy things–just a warning.
> 
> Anyway, any feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading ~<3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they start becoming a little closer.

Haru spends the next morning in the bath–the way he usually does. He sinks so that his ears are just above the surface of the water, and, because of this, almost misses the alert dinging on his phone. It’s a reminder that he actually has somewhere to be. He turned the volume up just to be sure he would hear it, and the tone rings loudly through his apartment. Haru rises from the tub and steps onto the cold tiled floor. He’ll be happy when spring rolls around again.

 

By the time he’s dry, he has an hour left to get dressed and meet Yamazaki at the designated corner. It’s a casual encounter, so he picks out an outfit only slight more put-together than what he’d usual wear. Haru chooses a blue-checkered collared shirt to wear over a thin white T-shirt and black jeans. He makes sure the collared shirt is unwrinkled before donning it. These clothes are comfortable and, he hopes, not too obviously chosen to “look good.” Haru is most definitely not dressing for Yamazaki; all he wants to do is appear presentable in a social situation–like a normal person.

 

Once he’s done getting dressed, Haru has just enough time to walk to the meeting point. When he arrives at the corner, he leans against the brick wall of a nearby shop and checks his phone. Yamazaki has about two minutes before he’ll be considered late. Haru waits for five minutes, then ten, then pulls up the texting window. As Haru is about to hit send, he hears a call from behind him.

 

“Nanase!” Haru turns to see Yamazaki jogging to the corner slightly out of breath. 

 

He looks somewhat disheveled. A track jacket hanging open to reveal a plain white shirt. Haru suddenly remembers Rin’s frequent jokes about a certain someone getting lost.

 

“Forget your GPS?” Haru asks casually and and watches an annoyed look flicker over Yamazaki’s face.

“Nice to see you, too,” Yamazaki replies. “This way.” 

 

Yamazaki heads for the sandwich place he mentioned to Haru the day before; the latter has to resist asking “You sure?” before following.

 

They’re silent as they wait in line, but it’s not completely uncomfortable, though there is tension in the air. Haru keeps his eyes forward, scanning the menu for fish. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Yamazaki smoothing his hair. Did he always do that? Before Yamazaki notices, Haru turns his gaze back to the menu. They sit down at a table toward the back of the shop with different numbers on their receipts. Haru wasn’t expecting Yamazaki to pick up the tab, and he didn’t.

 

As the wait for their sandwiches elapses, Haru actually looks at his lunch partner. It’s been almost exactly one year since he exited the Olympic circuit and longer since he hung out with Rin and Yamazaki. Since Rin was swimming for Australia, their interactions were limited. And since Haru has retired from competitive swimming, he’s only talked to Rin over the phone and through text. Yamazaki has hardly changed since high school. He’s a little taller and a little more muscular, but his face is the same. His eyes are clear and his features strongly defined.

 

Haru looks at Yamazaki like an artist looking at a model. His eyes don’t judge, but they examine. As he looks harder, he sees that there’s more complexity in Yamazaki’s eyes. In high school, they were filled with a single-minded determination; in the years that he tagged along with the Australia time, sometimes an assistant coach or the like, his eyes were filled with thoughts of winning; but now that he’s out of the swimming world, Haru sees more than a single drive behind Yamazaki’s bright, teal irises. He doesn’t know Yamazaki well enough to read what those motivations are, but maybe someday he will. 

 

Yamazaki shifts under Haru’s gaze letting his eyes wander over the other inhabitants of the sandwich shop. Haru cocks his head, still studying, and Yamazaki finally meets his gaze. Another moment passes, before the younger man breaks the silence.

 

“So, uh, how are you?”

 

It’s small talk, which Haru doesn’t particularly like. It’s a waste of words and air. Yamazaki seems to find it uncomfortable as well, and Haru holds back a sigh. He considers ignoring Yamazaki’s question entirely, but decides against it in favor of showing some semblance of politeness.

 

“I’ve been better.” Haru observes as Yamazaki fumbles for a moment at the unexpected response.

“Ah.” Yamazaki fixes his gaze somewhere to the side of Haru’s head. “What are you up to?”

“Baking and drawing, nothing too exciting. You?”

“Slaving away at my father’s company.”

 

It’s Haru’s turn to falter. He’s never been an outstanding conversationalist and neither is Yamazaki. It’s no surprise that their talk is interrupted by silences as they try to puzzle out what to say. Before Haru manages to think of a response, a waiter comes by with their sandwiches. Haru picks at his, biting off small bits of it to extend the period of time it’s socially acceptable to remain silent. He never eats much, and about halfway through the sandwich, Haru feels full. He sets the rest aside, intending to save it for later. Anything else would be a waste of food.

 

With his distraction gone, he turns back to Yamazaki, who has also remained completely silent during the meal. Unlike Haru, his sandwich is gone.

 

“Why were you at the pool?” Haru asks, and he feels the level of tension rise between them. Should he not have asked?

 

Yamazaki’s shoulders have stiffened, and the hand he left resting on the table tightens. Haru tries to think of a change of topic that would quell the tension, but his mind is unwilling. However, before he has time to say anything more, Yamazaki offers another statement.

 

“I thought it was time.”

 

Today is full of surprises, it seems. Haru lets his half-formed question die in his throat. As he thinks back on the times he saw Yamazaki with Rin, all he recalls is Rin swimming and Yamazaki on the sidelines.

 

“How long–” He hesitates, wondering briefly if his question is too personal. “–has it been since you swam?”

 

“Since high school. After physical therapy was through, I never quite got back to it–that is–until yesterday. I was thinking of you actually.”

 

Haru’s eyes widen and the silent question is written clearly in his expression.

 

“You swim a lot.” Yamazaki shrugs. Haru knows that he’s not the only person that “swims a lot,” but he lets the subject slide.

 

Over the next half an hour, they silences slowly become less present in their conversation. The topic ranges from high school to swimming and then vaguely to the future. Haru still doesn’t have a solid answer for what he wants to do, but he has something he is doing, and that’s almost good enough. 

 

That night, as Haru sketches after a long bath, he finds a human taking shape in his rambling scribbles. Without any particular person in mind, he begins to refine the details until he recognizes the silhouette. Haru works further even as the hour grows late. Fatigue would usually have sent him to bed, but there’s an urgency in how he draws. His pencil strokes are looser and less precise than he usually makes them. Each stroke is individual. Each flick of the wrist is something untamed; its source is pure creativity. Usually he binds himself with a clear goal in mind and focuses on not making distracting marks. Today, is different.

 

At a little past two in the morning, he lays his sketchbook down and takes a step back. He sees a man floating in the middle of his page. Perhaps he’s asleep. The pose is relaxed. But as Haru looks more closely, he notes that the left hand resting on the right bicep is anything but relaxed. It’s an image of emotions that have been constrained; it’s an image of Yamazaki.

 

The simple knowledge that he’s let another entity into his mind makes Haru want to recede, and so he does. His habit of running away is as strong as ever, so when Yamazaki casually texts “hello” the next morning, Haru ignores it. He tosses his phone aside and steps into the bath. Hanging out with someone every so often wouldn’t be terrible, and he has a few friends like that. He trusts them not to damage him, but he still keeps them at a distance–a close distance in Makoto’s case and a slightly larger one in Rin’s–but a distance all the same.

 

Yamazaki has invaded his creativity and therefore his subconscious, so Haru runs away from him. His mind is skittish in an attempt not to be pinned down. Perhaps he and Yamazaki could be close, but he doesn’t trust Yamazaki. So he should cut the ties of their relationship before they can strengthen or so Haru tells himself.

 

The ignored text from Yamazaki pops up in his thoughts at inopportune moments through the day. It shows up as he’s kneading dough for the next day’s bread, and when he’s icing a cookies for some sale or other. His hand falters each time he thinks of it. The more Yamazaki invades his mind, the more difficult it becomes to push Yamazaki away. Beneath the overwhelming doubt he holds, there’s a small voice that reminds him that Yamazaki may not be so bad.

 

By the end of his shift, Haru is twice as tired as normal. Takahashi gives him a sympathetic look and a pat on the back as Haru leaves. As he sits in the bathtub that night, he resolves to continue talking to Yamazaki. When he gets out of the tub, he picks up his phone. There’s an unread message from Makoto along with the one from Yamazaki. Haru answers both.

 

Makoto asks how the new job is going, and Haru simply answers “well.” He sends Yamazaki a simple greeting in return.

 

It takes another three weeks of texting back and forth before he actually sees Yamazaki again. It’s at the pool, but this time, Yamazaki is the one who is already in the water when Haru enters the room. It’s also the day Haru casually tells Makoto he’s been talking to Yamazaki. Makoto has a minor freak-out that he’s making friends, and Haru rolls his eyes. Telling Makoto made the fact that he is becoming friends with Yamazaki solidify in his mind. As if to prove a point, the universe sends their paths crashing together once more.

 

Yamazaki doesn’t notice the door opening because he’s swimming his powerfully elegant butterfly down the third lane from the left. He does notice at the end of the lap. Haru hears the slap of two palms against the wall, a habit most competitive swimmers never lose, and the splash as Yamazaki surfaces.

 

“Hi.” Yamazaki startles slightly.

 

“Nanase.”

 

Haru is somehow comforted by the light smile on Yamazaki’s lips, but he gives himself a harsh reminder to be en garde. He doesn’t really know Yamazaki apart from what Rin has told him, and there’s no reason to trust him. There’s no reason not to, either.

 

“How long have you been here?” Haru asks, beginning to stretch his own muscles before diving in.

 

Olympic swimming and coaching, but mostly coaching, has taught him not to jump in a pool without warming up. It took causing moderate damage to his shoulder to drive the point home, however. Haru resents the exercises slightly, because it means he can’t spontaneously strip and dive into the nearest body of water, but it also ensures that he’ll have a future where he can still swim.

 

Haru tightens the grip on his left wrist as he pulls it, arching his back. He can feel the muscle twinging in response, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. He walks to the edge of the pool before Yamazaki’s eyes meet his. There’s a brief moment of understanding, before Haru jerks his gaze away. 

 

“Only a few minutes.” Yamazaki answers his earlier question. “Wanna race?” Yamazaki’s eyes flash bright and clear.

 

It’s different than the challenge Rin used to send him, but it’s similar. There’s a passion in that gaze, and Haru can’t turn down a competition–though he may deny that he’s competitive in any way, shape, or form. Haru lifts his lips in a half smile.

 

“It better be freestyle,” Haru sends back, diving into the pool without waiting for a response.

 

His head breaks the water’s surface in the lane next to Yamazaki’s. They have the pool to themselves. This one-on-one seems somehow intimate, even though they’re not close at all. 

 

“100 meters?” Yamazaki shoots back, and Haru nods.

 

Haru hasn’t raced since the Olympics he won, and it’s nice to have a race without an insane rush of adrenaline and the pressure of flashing cameras. This race is private. It’s him, Yamazaki, and the pool, with no reporters or fans. It’s both calming and exciting. Haru climbs out of the pool to stand on the the starting block. Pool water drips down his legs and gathers around his fingers as he bends down. It’s a feeling that Haru hadn’t realized he had missed.

 

Yamazaki positions himself and their eyes meet once more. The tension in the air is full of energy, and it doesn’t feel hostile.

 

“When it hits 60?” Haru asks, gesturing with his head to the large timer at the poolside. 

 

Yamazaki affirms and they both turn to watch the hand rotate. There are three seconds left, then two, then they’re off. Haru dives. The water envelops him as he dives in smoothly. He cuts through it smoothly, his stroke still practiced though not as regularly trained as when he was swimming competitively. Haru breathes sharply and swiftly when he raises his head, and he doesn’t pay attention to how fast Yamazaki is.

 

The race ends too quickly, and Haru stands panting at the finish line only a few seconds before Yamazaki joins him. He knows the race wasn’t exactly fair, but the point wasn’t the competition. Swimming together, Haru believes, brings people together. Yamazaki meets his eyes again. Both of their chests heave from the recent exertion.

 

“I knew you’d win.” 

 

Haru nods, looking away almost in shame. He did win the gold for swimming freestyle, and Yamazaki specializes in butterfly. Yamazaki had only started going to the pool again a few weeks prior, Haru reminds himself. Yamazaki started swimming again because he thought of Haru.

 

“I’m going to swim a few laps,” Haru announces, before pushing off the side once more.

 

He doesn’t know how to talk to Yamazaki now. He knows they’ve past the territory from acquaintances to friends, and Haru doesn’t find Yamazaki’s presence to sap his energy. But there’s a disparity in the way he feels the friendship should go and the nagging voice in his mind that instills fear at the thought of more social interactions. Haru has always been caught in the middle of this battle, but this time it feels worse. Maybe it’s because Yamazaki isn’t a childhood friend–a childhood acquaintance perhaps, but they weren’t friends then. 

 

Haru tries to let the water surrounding him help him think, but all he thinks of is the fact that he is currently sharing the pool with Yamazaki. They breath the same air and the same water connects them. Haru swims to the end of the pool where he sees Yamazaki standing.

 

“Want to go for lunch?”

 

Yamazaki flinches at the sound of Haru’s voice, but quickly relaxes. It’s the third time he’s reacted in shock when Haru speaks. It’s a reminder that they’re not used to each other’s presences yet.

 

“Is it even lunch time?”

 

Haru shrugs. It doesn’t really matter.

  
“Sure,” Yamazaki decides.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk a little–just a little. They're both men of few words, but even one word can change a whole lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the bad summary. It's a lunch out and a conversation that touches on a couple things that maybe they should talk about but don't.

When he offered another outing for lunch, Haru had forgotten that meant they’d both be heading to the locker room at the same time. After years of swimming, Haru is used to changing and showering with other people present, but those other people have always been teammates. Yamazaki is an outsider. There is nothing that groups them together but the label “friend.” Haru finds himself turning his back to Yamazaki as he rinses the chlorine from his skin.

 

Haru isn’t shy about showing skin. After all, he’s a swimmer and used to at least baring his top half. If he was standing with Makoto in the shower, he wouldn’t hesitate to strip down under the hot water. But with just Yamazaki, he hesitates fingers hovering above his hipbones. It shouldn’t be awkward, and yet Haru’s reluctance is strong. Haru showers quickly, not letting himself relax under the warm stream. He both showers and dresses without looking at Yamazaki, though Haru sees him moving in his peripheral vision.

 

Yamazaki finishes dressing first, and he gathers his wet swimsuit and goggles in a bag he slings over his shoulder. He leans against one of the lockers only a few feet away as Haru pulls his shirt over his head and zips up his jacket. They walk outside soundlessly. A cold breeze hits them, and Haru hunches into his jacket. His hair is still damp and his head feels icy.

 

“Let’s go somewhere close,” Haru says still clutching his jacket around his shoulders. He makes a mental note–that he’ll probably forget–to pay more attention to how cold it is before he goes outside.

 

“It’s not that cold,” Yamazaki comments stressing the “that.” 

 

Haru rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

 

Haru walks quickly and another gust of cold wind drowns out Yamazaki’s response. They cross the street and walk to a place with “sushi” in the title. Haru wants mackerel, as usual, but most types of fish are at least alright in his book. He knows there will be something he likes if there’s sushi. As they enter the little restaurant, Haru notes that Yamazaki walks a few steps behind him.  _ So as not to get lost _ , Haru guesses and a small smile plays around his lips.

 

The restaurant is a little bit of a step up from the sandwich place they ate at previously, and the two sit at a table covered in a simple white cloth. They’re presented with menus, and silence ensues. Haru quickly finds something with mackerel in it and sets his menu down. His eyes fall on his lunch partner–it is lunch, Haru checked the time. Yamazaki seems to be reading everything on the menu as slowly as possible, and Haru quickly bores of simply looking at Yamazaki.

 

“Are you swimming often?” Haru breaks the silence, and Yamazaki doesn’t have a choice but to look up.

“Always with the swimming, huh, Nanase?”

“You shouldn’t be surprised.” Haru gives him a glare.

“Once or twice a week–depends how busy I am at work.”

 

The look on Yamazaki’s face when he says “work” is something that sparks Haru’s attention. Yamazaki scrunches his nose and his eyes look their seeing something that’s not physically present. Haru recalls that Yamazaki made some sort of snide comment about his work at their first lunchtime meeting, and he remembers that he didn’t press the case.

 

“What’s your job?” Haru asks opening the door to the conversation while not shoving Yamazaki into it.

 

Yamazaki’s eyes flick to Haru’s face. There’s a moment of consideration, then Yamazaki’s gaze turns back to the menu in front of him. At first, Haru thinks Yamazaki is about to ignore him. He is wrong.

 

“My father is a businessman. As his son, I got an legup and a manager position with no experience. I couldn’t turn it down.” Yamazaki pauses. “I hate it.”

 

Yamazaki glares at the menu like it’s done something to harm him personally. 

“Why?” 

 

There’s a moment when Haru recoils from Yamazaki’s harsh look, but it doesn’t last long. Yamazaki looks down again–ashamed at reacting so much, perhaps.

  
“It’s complicated.”

  
They both fall silent until the food comes. Like at the sandwich shop, neither talks while they eat, and Haru saves about half of his food for later. He closes the leftover sushi in a box. Yamazaki is the one who starts the conversation up again.

 

“I know it’s a little late, but congrats on winning gold.”

 

This earns eye roll and a sigh from Haru.

 

“Thanks. I hope you didn’t take this long to congratulate Rin.” 

“What? No. He’d kill me.”

 

Haru smiles at this. Thinking of Rin suddenly makes him feel a little guilty that they haven’t talked in a while. Their last phone call was before he’d seen Yamazaki, so nearly a month.

 

“He’s in Australia now, right?” Haru asks absentmindedly, still thinking about whether he should call Rin or wait until the redhead calls him again. 

“He’s at a competition in France, actually.”

 

Haru can hear that Yamazaki wants to say more, but doesn’t. He decides to call Rin after lunch with Yamazaki.

 

“It sounds like he’s having fun,” Yamazaki adds.

“I’m sure he is.”

 

Yamazaki opens his mouth as if to say something, but stops. Haru waits wondering why Yamazaki is hesitating. He’d gotten the impression that Rin had a very direct best friend, but then he remembers how long Yamazaki kept silent about his injury. 

 

“Go ahead,” Haru prompts, tired of the fish-out-of-water look he’s getting from his lunch partner.

 

Said lunch partner swallows. “I will, just give me time, dammit” his face seems to say. Yamazaki picks up the glass of water he’s hardly touched throughout their meal and takes a sip. He sets it down on the table with a clink.

  
“Why did you stop swimming?”

 

The air between them runs cold. Haru lets both of his hands drop to his lap. It’s the question he should have expected, but he had hoped Yamazaki would somehow avoid asking it. He tries to answer it lightly.

 

“I was careless.” He taps his left shoulder catching Yamazaki’s gaze. He hopes it’s understanding he sees returned.

Yamazaki breaks eye contact. “Even you, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

The question is left unanswered, and the air between them is left awkward. Haru hadn’t wanted to feel this way with Yamazaki. He feels his anxiety pricking at the edge of his consciousness. Maybe he would be better off sticking with the friends he already has and ignoring everyone else. But then again, maybe every connection has to be tainted by imperfections. Haru hates himself for even being at lunch with Yamazaki, and that it was his instigation.

 

“Is it…better?” Haru brings his gaze back to Yamazaki, and there’s a look of concern that surprises him.

“Yeah.”

 

The smile Yamazaki gives him at that simple word is definitely unexpected. It’s soon gone, but the expression is stuck in Haru’s mind.  _ Yamazaki cares about me. _ This fact registers slowly in Haru’s mind, though he’s still full of doubts. The air between them is warm now–comfortable–and maybe it only felt cold to Haru anyway.

 

When they part, they leave with a promise of seeing each other again. It’s a casual “we should do this again,” from Yamazaki, but Haru’s heart beats a little faster as he rushes away. It’s unusual that anyone apart from his fellow Iwatobi SC members and Rin bother to ask him to hang out. It’s difficult to believe that Yamazaki actually wants to see him again, and yet, that’s what his statement implied.

 

Haru doesn’t remember to call Rin. The few hours he spends at home before he leaves for his shift at the café are spent in contemplation. He starts out drawing, but he throws his sketchbook aside when he realizes he’s delineating Yamazaki’s smile. The half-finished sketch stares up at him from the coffee table.

 

He stands and walks the the high counter that divides the living room and the kitchen. He rests his head on crossed arms. Haruka Nanase has never been in love, unless water counts. He’s had crushes. Makoto first, and then people he can’t really remember. Yes, he likes guys, and yes, Yamazaki is on his mind a lot. Haru leaves his apartment quickly to go for a run. It’s different than swimming and not as effective at calming him down, but it’s something.

 

The streets flash by him without being recognized, because his mind is stuck on Yamazaki. Part of him wants to run away and not return, but the logical part of his mind knows the impulse is unrealistic and childish. Haru settles for simply running until he’s out of breath and almost late for his shift. He has time to return to his apartment and change out of his sweatpants and sports jacket, but only just.

 

Takahashi doesn’t say anything when he arrives at Little Bean slightly out of breath and still flushed from the exercise. As he works his shift, dividing time between helping Takahashi and helping at the counter, his mind still wanders. He needs release. He needs to let all these annoying thoughts out and start from a blank slate. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work like that, and Haru is left with a headache.

 

His usual deft hands are clumsy. Haru works more slowly than usual and winces every so often as his head throbs. Takahashi doesn’t fail to note that his assistant is out of sorts.

 

“You can go home, Haru. It’s a Thursday night, there’s nothing special to do.”

 

Haru pauses with his hands hovering above a mixing bowl for a moment before they drop to his sides. He leaves with a muttered apology and a promise to come in on Saturday, when he usually doesn’t work. Takahashi waves him off.

 

It’s 7 when he gets home, and despite the early hour, he goes straight to bed. Haru’s sleep is fitful and the headache follows him into his dreams. His dream starts out in water, as usual, but as he swims he feels something gripping at his ankles. Dark, unnamed forces are holding him back. Suddenly, his left arm is bitten into. The pain is sharp and real, so much so that he wakes in a moment’s time. His heart pounds in his chest. He thinks he sees something moving in the shadows and rushes to turn the light on. 

 

Haru settles back against the headboard of his bed. He feels something warm trickle down his cheeks, and it takes a second to realize that he’s crying. Haru hasn’t cried over a nightmare in a long time. His nightmares have been a constant presence through his life, reminding him that life is like swimming and water can be fickle, but this is new. He might have woken crying in high school, but not since then, not even as he made his choice to quit competitive swimming or when he realized he had was injured.

 

Once his heart rate has slowed to a more normal pace, Haru climbs out of bed shivering slightly in the cool air. His feet take him to the bathroom, where he leans over the sink and splashes his face with water. The water drips down his cheeks erasing the tear tracks. Haru’s grip on the sides of the sink tightens even as his hands shake. He relaxes slowly, easing his grip on the sink. He lets his knees drop to the floor hardly wincing at the dull pain it causes.

 

Ten minutes later, or maybe more, Haru doesn’t notice the time pass, he slowly stands. He picks up a towel and pats down his face and spares a glance at the mirror. He hardly ever looks at himself, because he doesn’t care much for appearances, but now he does. His face is a little thinner than it was because he’s hasn’t been eating regularly and isn’t on a strict diet that Makoto held him to. His cheekbones are defined and his eyes are almost a little too large for his face. Right now, there are shadows under his eyes, and they look sunken. He thinks he looks a lot older than twenty-five.

  
He doesn’t wake again until morning. His dreams for the rest of the night are disturbing but murky. And while the anxious feeling of being hunted down or trapped follows him into the morning, Haru can’t remember a single detail of his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another pretty happy chapter. Shit starts going down in chapter 5 and then gets worse, and then hopefully will get better. Hold on my lovelies, it'll be a ride. Any feedback is great!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication and overreacting(?)

Rin calls him in the morning. Haru flips over his mackerel on the stove and answers the phone.

 

“Hey, Haru. What have you been up to?” Rin’s voice is a loud, and Haru holds the phone away from his ear.

“Nothing much.”

“Oh, c’mon, you must be doing something. How’s the job? You got hired, right?”

 

Haru sighs and turns off the burner under his frying pan so as not to burn his breakfast. He makes his way to the couch before continuing the conversation.

 

“I go to work every day except Saturday. I swim. It’s not that exciting, Rin.”

“Well, when you put it that way, sure, but–haven’t you met anyone interesting? Cool people come into the café, right?”

“I’m mostly in the back.”

 

It’s Rin’s turn to sigh.

 

“Haru,” he whines. “You have got to do something interesting with your life.”

“No thanks, I’m good. How’s France?” 

“It’s fantastic. I don’t have a clue how to speak French, but I’m with the team anyway. Their food’s weird–good, I mean, but weird. It’s supposed to be a great food country, but I’m not really a connoisseur. Maybe you’d appreciate it. Wait. Haru, how did you know I was in France?”

 

Haru freezes. It’s not like he wants to hide the fact that he had lunch with Yamazaki with Rin, but it feels awkward. And, he wonders why Yamazaki hasn’t told Rin they’ve been talking. 

 

“Someone told me,” he answers, hoping Rin just accepts the casual tone of voice and moves on to other things. He isn’t so lucky.

“Who? I mean, Makoto knows because I told him, but I didn’t think he told you yet. The only other person who would know is Sou ‘cause he kind of follows these things, and I already talked his ear off about the eiffel tower–”

“It was Yamazaki.”

“What?” Rin is much louder than he needs to be, Haru decides. “Wait. Since when were you friends with Sou? Why do you guys feel the need to hide things from me?”

“We’re not,” Haru mutters.

“Not friends or not purposefully hiding things? Haru–wait, nevermind, I’m going to go bother Sou. I can’t believe he was so busy complaining about his shitty job that he didn’t mention you.”

“It’s not that important.” Haru tries to appease Rin, because he can hear the redhead starting to lose his temper even though the matter is completely trivial.

“Yes, it fucking is.” Rin states, and hangs up the phone.

 

Haru is left staring at the little message on his phone screen “Call with RinRin ended.” He knows his friend is an idiot, but Rin is overreacting. It’s not like he told Rin he was suddenly dating Yamazaki. They’ve just had lunch a few times when they felt like it. They’re not dating. At all. It’s a simple friendship. Rin should be happy his best friend and Haru are finally on speaking terms.

 

“Drama queen,” Haru murmurs as he sets his phone aside and stands to go back to his mackerel.

 

Halfway through his plate of mackerel, Haru’s phone rings again. He sighs as he leaves the dining table to go get his phone, which he left on the couch. Glancing at the caller ID he sees that it’s Rin again. As he reaches out to answer the phone a text notification comes up.

 

**_Yamazaki:_ **

_ I think Rin’s misunderstood something I said.  _

_ Let me talk to him. _

 

Haru stares at the notifications before answering the call. Why should he have to listen to Yamazaki? 

 

“‘Not hiding things,’ huh? Fuck! How did you not–how did I not–I didn’t even know you were interested in guys–”

“What?” The question comes out in shock. He hadn’t mentioned it because it was never important. “Rin, what did Yamazaki tell you?”

“Why are you so formal? He’s supposed to be your  _ boyfriend _ Haru–”

 

Maybe Haru should have listened to Yamazaki.

 

“Rin, where the hell did you get that impression?”

 

Haru is not usually one to swear, but the current situation elicits profanity from him. 

 

“What the hell did Yamazaki tell you?”

 

Rin was apparently startled enough by Haru’s use of “hell” to calm down.

  
“He, uh, said you were ‘hanging out’ but the way he said it…anyways, he mentioned going to a restaurant, which obviously a date, and, um,–”

“There was no date.”

 

It’s times like this when Haru isn’t sure whether he wants to throw his phone out of the window or slap some sense into Rin. Unfortunately, his phone wasn’t exactly cheap, and Rin isn’t close enough to slap.

 

“But the way Sou talks about you, and, fuck, maybe I should talk to him. Uh, wait, shit. I’ll talk to you later, Haru.” And for the second time in fifteen minutes, Rin hangs up on him.

 

Haru puts the phone down, on the counter this time, but doesn’t feel like finishing his meal.  _ The way Sou talks about you, _ Haru’s mind echoes, and he wonders what exactly Rin was talking about. Knowing Rin’s habit of taking things out of proportion and seeing hearts and sparkles where there aren’t any means it’s probably nothing, but there’s a nagging in the back of Haru’s mind.

 

He places the plate in the fridge and goes to the sink to clean up. Unnamed anxieties are building within him, and nausea threatens to take root. This is just a reminder that humans are complicated. Even Rin, one of his best friends, can cause this sort of reaction in him. Haru wants to go to bed and pull the covers over his head, and so he does. There’s nothing stopping him. He has no obligations save for his shift that starts at 6 in the evening.

 

He wakes a few hours later. He can tell that time has passed because the light coming in through the blinds in the window has a different quality. Glancing at his nightstand, he sees that it’s past one in the afternoon. Slowly, Haru makes his way back to the bathroom and fills the bathtub. The water is warm. Haru slips in still wearing the T-shirt and shorts he wore to bed. The wet fabric clings to him, and he quickly strips it off tossing the dripping garments to the side.

 

There’s a mild disgust for himself that mixes in with his anxieties. He doesn’t want to leave his bath and most definitely not his apartment. There are too many dangers if he goes outside, too many talking faces, and noises. But he also doesn’t want to be trapped in this apartment where his own thoughts and Rin’s words echo in his mind. He sinks deeper into the pool, letting the water lap at his chin. Water dulls the noises and chaos that come from outside, and Haru craves calm solitude.

 

He slides down further immersing his head entirely, but there is still so much noise inside of his head. It echoes and the volume is more than he cares to handle, but it’s inside his head. Even underwater, there is no respite from the turmoil that stems from inside. He spends a minute under the surface, trying to drown out things he doesn’t want to think about. But even with a swimmer’s lung capacity, he can’t stay there forever. He resurfaces and gulps at the air.

 

“I just want to be free,” he chokes out through his gasps for air. 

 

Water runs down his face dripping from the strands of hair that cover his forehead. It takes a moment to realize that there are tears pooling the corners of his eyes. He wipes them away angrily, hating the weakness that has chosen to show itself now. In all honesty, Haru is surprised that he’s lasted so long at his new job without any real support.

 

Throughout his career as a competitive swimmer, Makoto was always just a step beside him, always there to gently prop him up and make sure he didn’t break down. Makoto is still checking in on him, but it’s not the same. Over the past year, he’s grown used to the more-than-weekly “how are you doing?” texts from his friend. Now that Makoto can’t just walk up a flight of stairs to bust through Haru’s door, Haru feels isolated. When he can divide his time between either the pool or his apartment, there is only a little anxiety. But now he has a job, a responsibility, and just going out for a few hours a day to work at the café is slowly accumulating stress.

 

Haru soaks in the bath for a long time. The water is cold before he sits up straight and reaches for a nearby towel. His skin is covered in goosebumps. When he’s done drying himself, Haru wraps the towel around his waist and grabs another to wrap around his shoulders for warmth.

 

He walks to his bedroom and collapses on the bed. He can feel the need to cry bubbling in his throat and he tries to calm it. He already skipped out of work early last night, and he wants to be better by the time his shift rolls around. Haru doesn’t want to let anyone down. It’s a responsibility, and he doesn’t want to let it down, but at the same time, he wants to lock all the windows and doors and never, ever leave. Sleep overtakes his spinning thoughts eventually, and he falls into a dark and dreamless pit. He wakes unrested a half an hour later. The alarm clock to his left tells him it’s almost five. He wrenches himself out of bed and shudders when both towels fall to the floor. He stands naked and cold at his bedside. Too lazy to grab clothes at the moment, he settles for a blanket and wraps it around his shivering frame.

 

He shuffles around in the kitchen, absentmindedly going through cabinets. His stomach is telling him he should eat something, but another part of him tells him he’ll throw up if he does. He settles for a glass of water first. When he sets the cup down on the counter before going back to cabinet-rummaging, his eyes fall on his phone. He stares at it. He has this device to thank and to blame for being able to communicate with anyone at any time. Just as he’s about to turn away, the screen lights up. There’s a notification that says “Yamazaki” and a line under it that simply contains his name, his first name “Haruka.” A moment later, another box pops up “9 unread text messages.”

 

He’s not sure what the trigger is exactly, but the feeling of sickness is overwhelming. Haru nearly knocks over the glass of water as he dashes for the bathroom. Throwing up on an empty stomach is painful, and his throat burns even as he straightens up. 

 

Having just a little presence of mind, Haru calls his boss and prays that he doesn’t pick up. Some gods are smiling on him, because the recorded message for voicemail answers him almost immediately. He quickly says he’s sick and can’t come in and hangs up. He talks quickly so that the feeling of nausea rising in his throat doesn’t spill over before he finishes talking. Once done, he’s left with his heartbeat resonating against his ribs and a cold sweat breaking out and a painful knot in his stomach.

 

Curiosity gets the better of him as he holds onto his phone. He wants nothing to do with other people, including–no especially–his friends, but he still wants to know what those 9 unread messages are. He reads the ones from Rin first.

 

**_RinRin:_ **

_ Ok, ok. I buy it. _

_ ur not dating. Whatevs. _

 

And then, he reads the ones from Yamazaki.

 

**_Yamazaki:_ **

_ I’m still not sure what happened. _

_ Rin just assumes things sometimes. _

_ You know that. _

_ this sounds dumb but _

_ I still want to be friends _

_ with you _

_ Haruka _

 

Haru is still staring at the last line. Does this mean Yamazaki wants to be close to him? Should he call him “Sousuke,” now? Haru attributes the increase in the pace of his heartbeat to the anxiety still hanging over his head, but he has no excuse for the heat in his face. Somehow Yamazaki’s words don’t make him nauseous. He sets the phone down without responding. There’s a kind of peace that settles in him under all the stress and worries and fears. Maybe Yamazaki isn’t so bad.

 

His screen lights up a moment after setting it down.

 

“New message from  **Yamazaki** : shit”

“New message from  **Yamazaki** : Nanase don’t take this the wrong way”

 

Haru’s lips quirk–a smile. And then his blood runs cold. Since when did Yamazaki make him smile? The anxiety rises in him again, and he suddenly feels discomfort at simply being in his apartment. He briefly glances around the kitchen and over the counter into the living room, and his eyes catch on his sketchbook. The half-done sketch of Yamazaki is staring up at the ceiling. 

  
Curse Yamazaki and his stupid smile. Haru hates that he doesn’t hate that smile; it makes him sick. Haru walks out of his apartment leaving his phone on the counter. He remembers to grab his jacket just as he leaves. He puts his right arm in the jacket as he exits and his left after he closes the apartment door. The cold night air is refreshing, but the cold makes Haru’s shoulders shiver. The jacket is thin, and he can feel the breeze blowing right through the fabric. He could walk back to his own apartment, but there’s a mountain of anxieties that await him at his own doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here it is. Things are happening…brace yourselves. The next chapter isn't going to be fun.   
> Also, sorry for making Rin the "bad guy," but it's really that he's just a little overeager sometimes and doesn't get that Haru doesn't want some things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes feelings just overflow. Also known as the "breakdown chapter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I hope I wrote this ok.

As Haru walks out of the door, he’s almost surprised that it’s so bright. So much has already happened, he expected it to be late at night. Then he remembers the clock on his bedside table spelling out ten ‘til five. Although the sun sets soon, the sky is dyed orange to the west and a kind of grayish blue lingers to the east.

 

Haru walks down the outdoor steps from the third floor, that his apartment is on, to the walkway below. There’s a waist-height gate to the street, and he walks through it. Haru has no place in mind as he heads down the street. He isn’t going to the commercial area where the café is, so he turns to go the opposite direction. He pulls the collar of his jacket up over his nose and sticks his hands in his pockets. The cold nips at his ears and the exposed skin of his cheeks. He has half a mind to run back to his apartment, but there are still so many thoughts swirling around in his head that he can’t go back to the closed space where he lives. The cold is getting to him and his nose feels like it’s about to start dripping.

 

However, Haru has never really been one for self-preservation, and he keeps walking. He doesn’t know how long he walks for. His nose does start dripping, and he sniffles as he dips his head down further in his jacket. All the streets are lined with small apartment buildings that look almost the same. Some have little gardens in front and other don’t. He sees the lights flick on or turn of through open curtains or from behind others. He’s the only one on the streets at dinner time on a Friday night in a residential neighborhood. That’s what he thinks, anyway, until he stumbles into someone else. This someone is taller than Haru and more broadly shouldered. This someone seems solid, and Haru is so shocked by the encounter and so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t immediately recoil.

 

He can tell that the other man–or so he guesses from the flat chest–was in a hurry from the force with which they collided. It takes a moment to register the stabilizing hand on his right arm. It kept him from falling, Haru realizes. At the same moment he notices, he steps back, almost stumbling again, and the hand is still on his arm, keeping him upright for a second time. Haru dislikes physical contact and always has, and probably always will. He tolerates with his friends, but that tolerance always comes with annoyance. Being touched by someone he doesn’t recognize sets off all his alarms, and the dark shadows that invaded his mind are still their, clouding his judgement. Haru feels tremors in his chest as his heartbeat and breathing race. He recognizes the symptoms as a panic attack beginning, and he really does want to be home now, alone, but he’s not. He can feel the warmth of the other person’s hand still on his right deltoid, and it’s hot almost burning. It’s the one thing that’s clear in his mind. He’s being touched, and yet he doesn’t wrench away and run, but he can feel his breathing speed and his vision cloud.

 

“Nanase?” A voice asks, and it’s a familiar voice that causes everything to worsen. 

 

Haru puts his hands up to cover his face. He turns to walk away before even acknowledging the Yamazaki’s presence–of course it had to be him. Haru inwardly curses his luck. He wanted time to think, to sort out his crazy emotions and thoughts, and maybe calm down before he saw anyone and especially the person standing before him right now. The events from earlier in the day have yet to fade from his memory, and all he wants to do is sink into the cement and never be seen again. He presses his hands harder against his face.  _ Disappear, disappear _ , he repeats in his head, but of course, he doesn’t.

 

“Haruka?” Yamazaki’s voice is tentative, hushed even. 

 

Haru feels the pounding in his chest and he can hear the blood rushing through his veins. His hands still cover his face, and there’s a mixture of embarrassment and fright and something like self-hatred rushing through him. He doesn’t want to face Yamazaki, or “Sousuke,” but he doesn’t really have a choice in that matter.

 

“I,” Haru starts, and he’s annoyed to find how breathy and  _ fragile _ his voice sounds. He clears his throat and tries again. He wants to tell Yamazaki that he’s fine and then be alone again, but there’s a tiny part of him that wants support, too.

 

“I-I’m fine.” It’s all Haru can think to say even if it is a blatant lie. Even thick-skulled, oblivious Yamazaki–as Rin sometimes refers to him–will be able to tell it’s not true.

 

Yamazaki’s hand is still on his shoulder, the heat still burning him. Haru isn’t sure if he wants to run or cry or–he doesn’t know. His legs are trembling beneath him, and god, he just wants to be alone but he also doesn’t. It’s the painful argument between the needs of two different parts of himself, and Haru is stuck in the middle. Yamazaki’s hand leaves his shoulder, and Haru would almost say he misses the stabilizing presence. He assumes that Yamazaki will walk away, because Yamazaki owes him nothing and because he knows Yamazaki is the non-confrontational type.

 

Haru has been in similar positions before: once with Rin before a competition and multiple times with Makoto. Rin yelled at him for being stupid and then ran off to swim. That day, Haru didn’t race, but he managed to be added to a heat for the same event the next day, so it wasn’t too bad. With Makoto, it was always simple. Makoto reads him like an open book. Makoto knew when to put Haru on the head and sit next to him or gently lead him by the hand back to the hotel room or the locker room and calm him. Yamazaki is different. Yamazaki doesn’t know him, especially not this side–not that Rin did or Makoto before they had to hold him together–and this is a side of himself Haru doesn’t like showing to others. Who would?   
  


“I’m not that oblivious, Nana–is it okay if I call you ‘Haruka’?” 

 

Something about the uncertain way Sousuke asks breaks Haru’s already shattering walls. Pain and fear overflow, and he feels like he’s drowning. He loves water, but he needs air to breathe, and his breath come in gasps that sound loud even to his own ears.

 

“Yes,” he barely manages to reply, breathing as deeply as he can and still, desperately, trying to calm himself. 

“It’s fine, ‘Suke.” And Haru means to say all of “Sousuke,” But the air catches in his throat at the wrong time. If he were looking, he would have seen Sousuke flush.

 

Haru feels the dizziness from not breathing properly set in. The solid black behind his eyelids is spotted with gray and white. His body feels somehow separate even as he nots the tingling in his hands and feet. He hates this; he hates it so much. He feels exposed and raw, like he was stripped naked in front of a crowd, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

“Haruka.” Even in his broken state, Haru can hear the hesitancy and the unsteadiness in Sousuke’s voice. “Come with me.”

 

A warm hand settles on Haru’s right shoulder blade. It pushes him slowly forward and Haru doesn’t resist–can’t resist. He wants to be out of the open and away from the gaze of random strangers. He feels his breath hitch as he tries to walk blindly down the sidewalk. His steps are uneven and imprecise, but Sousuke supports him every time he stumbles. At some point, a second hand is added. Haru feels the warmth from Sousuke’s palms behind both of his shoulders. Somehow the heat he feels isn’t quite burning. It’s uncomfortable being helpless, but it’s nice not to be alone. They pause at some point, and there’s the distinct sound of a key turning in a lock. They take a few more steps before Sousuke gently stops him.

 

“There’s a flight of stairs.”

 

All Haru does in response is issue a slight nod. His breathing has evened out somewhat, but it is still far from normal. His hands still cover his face, and he dreads the moment he has to put them down. They climb the stairs slowly, Sousuke’s hand still gently placed on Haru’s back. There is more walking, down a hallway, most likely, and then another stop and another sound of a key in a door. Haru is guided to the couch and somewhat forcibly pushed into a sitting position. Then Sousuke breaks contact. Haru can hear him close the door and lock it. A dull thunk reaches him and then another as Sousuke’s shoes hit the ground. More steps cross the floor, and some of them come along with a squeak of the floorboards. The timbre of the steps change, a different room. There’s the sound of cabinet doors opening and then closing, then running water and then the sound of steps again.

 

Haru pushes his hands harder to his face. It won’t help him disappear, he knows that, but it makes him feel something other than the painful tingling. He can feel tears threatening to spill over and even after all this, he doesn’t want Sousuke to see him cry. A part of him still doesn’t believe it’s  _ Yamazaki _ in front of him. They have never been friends. These past few weeks were steps toward friendship, but he still doesn’t count Sousuke as an actual friend. Haru doesn’t count him as an acquaintance either.

 

A dull  _ thunk _ of glass against wooden table catches Haru’s attention. He can still feel the mess of emotions turning inside him, but a part of his mind has cleared. He senses Sousuke’s presence standing in front of him for another few seconds before it moves. Then he feels the displacement of what he’s sitting on–a couch, perhaps?–as Yamazaki sits down.

 

“I’m, uh, going to watch something,” Sousuke mutters.

 

A few clicks of a remote later, Haru hears some sports channel coming through. He can tell what it is by the announcer’s enthused voice. Sousuke changes the channel a minute later, perhaps deciding he wants something quieter. Snippets of sound flash past until it settles on a news channel. Haru doesn’t listen. He’s focused on himself as he slowly gains his bearings. His breathing is almost normal now. As he forces himself to breath more slowly, random words stick in his head. He hears the word “rain” and something about freezing winds.

 

Haru slowly peels his hands off his face. Surely, his skin is red and ugly. He still doesn’t want Sousuke to see him like this, but there’s nothing he can do. He is currently in Sousuke’s apartment. If someone leaves, it should be Haru. He sits uncomfortably for a moment still biting back tears. Haru reaches one trembling hand towards the glass Sousuke set on the table and brings it to his lips. The water is cool, just from the tap, and that coolness is soothing. He sets down the glass again, carefully, so as not to spill it. Haru still feels raw and open, but a little less chaotic. Sousuke hasn’t really spoken to him yet, and for that, Haru is glad. He doesn’t want to explain himself, or, rather, try to.

 

Haru inserts a thumb in the back of each of his shoes and pulls them off. Sousuke looks over at the two  _ thumps _ , and his eyes meet Haru’s for a moment. Sousuke’s gaze pulls away suddenly, but Haru takes a moment longer. He can’t help it. There’s a deep curiosity now. Why would Sousuke,  _ Sousuke _ , go out of his way to help Haru? To be fair, they ran into each other, and most people can’t just let someone who is clearly not in their right mind walk away without doing anything, but it seems excessive. The mere thought that Sousuke has done something for him, even if it’s just let Haru sit in his apartment for a little while, makes something in Haru’s chest clench and the tears pool in the corners of his eyes.

  
He leans back into the corner that the back of the couch and the armrest make. Unlike Haru’s, this couch’s armrests are plush, and Haru finds his right elbow sinking into the fabric as he tucks his ankles under him and cradles his knees in his left arm. Haru lets his head rest on his knees and brings his gaze to the TV. His thoughts are still loud, and he hardly registers what the reporter is saying. Instead, he thinks of his situation. And why, why, hasn’t Sousuke kicked him out yet or gone to another room or something. Haru blinks quickly. He is not going to cry; he is not, not, not. He surreptitiously wipes his eyes hoping that the gesture goes unseen. A moment later, Sousuke stands and leaves the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, it's somewhat based on my own experience. There's a bit more of this left, but they'll make it…probably. //slapped


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru tries to calm down. Sousuke tries to deal.

Haru watches Sousuke walk away. He notes that Sousuke is wearing a collared shirt and a loosened tie. Briefly glancing around the room, he sees the discarded suit jacket slung over a chair at the kitchen table. The sudden way Sousuke left unsettles Haru in ways he doesn’t really understand. But somehow the tears are dripping down his cheeks and he has nothing to wipe them with but his sleeve. Sousuke comes back less than sixty seconds later to find the shorter male even more curled up on the end of his couch. He drops the tissue box he grabbed from the bathroom on the table in front of Haru. Teal eyes linger on the top of Haru’s head. He does wonder what’s going on, that’s only natural, but curious as he may be, he doesn’t ask. Haru needs space, or, at least, that’s what he guesses.

 

Sousuke lingers long enough to watch Haru hesitantly reach for the tissue box. Haru cries harder when Sousuke’s back is turned. Pent up stress and general emotion spill out, but he at least tries not to sob. There have got to be neighbors around who he doesn’t want listening in, but, most of all, he wants to be as strong as possible. Sousuke already saw him break, he doesn’t need to see Haru completely shatter, but he does.

 

There’s no dividing wall between the living room, where the couch and the TV are, and the kitchen. So as Sousuke bustles around the kitchen trying to scrape together something to eat from leftovers and cans, he keeps an eye on the figure huddled on his couch. Sousuke fumbles a can and slices his finger on the roughly cut edge. He lets out a loud explicative, and then remembers his guest, if Haru can really be called that. Sousuke curses again, more silently, and sucks on the wound. It’s not deep, but a line of red forms on the index finger of his right hand.

 

Ten minutes later he has two plates of rice and vegetables with leftover grilled fish, and he realizes he has no fucking clue what to do. He’s been listening to Haru’s muffled sobs, and he is clueless, absolutely clueless, as to what is going on. Sousuke is hardly a sensitive person. He blunders through life trying to aim for the best, and usually failing. That’s how he ended up hurting both himself and Rin during high school, and how he’s managed to mess up a few relationships since then, too. He doesn’t want to mess up with Haru; he has a feeling Rin might kill him if he upsets Haru even more. So, Sousuke is stuck.

 

After debating furiously with himself, he sets the food in front of Haru, next to the tissue box and glass of water, along with a pair of chopsticks. He settles at the kitchen table himself, and tries not to stare too much at the back of Haru’s head and still shaking shoulders.

 

When he finishes his own plate, he glances over to see that Haru has left his untouched. A slight sigh escapes him, and Sousuke busies himself with cleaning up. He leaves the skillet in the sink and sets the dishes to dry. Then he finds himself staring at Haru. His teal gaze is soft and worried. Over the past few weeks, he’s come to appreciate, maybe even enjoy, Haru’s presence and sometimes snarky replies to his text messages. The Haru he’s gotten to know, just a little, is different than the one he built up in his mind over years of hearing from Rin. But, it’s not a bad thing. He enjoys the little bit of competitiveness between them, but also the simple understanding. He’s glad that Haru isn’t an overly-talkative person like Rin, but he has enjoyed their conversation. Looking at the back of Haru’s head, he sees someone so deeply broken he can hardly think how many pieces he has to pick up.

 

Sousuke hopes that his antagonistic behavior the last year of high school isn’t at fault. It’s unlikely that it is, but the possibility is there. He knows he’s one face among many in Haru’s life, and there’s no reason why he should’ve been important enough to break Haru. Sousuke knows he made stupid decisions where Rin was concerned.

 

The simple possibility of it takes root in the shape of guilt in Sousuke’s chest, and had since the moment he ran into Haru a few steps away from his apartment. No, earlier. Recently, Sousuke has been dreaming of high school and everything he could have done better. Maybe the snide comments from coworkers about him just being a lucky bastard and not actually having any talent or good points are catching up to him. Maybe Haru’s presence in his life is making Sousuke think of himself differently. He glares at the now-clean dish in his hand. Thinking about things isn’t going to get him anywhere.

 

Sousuke dries his hands on the towel that hangs to the side of the sink, then hesitantly walks towards the couch again.

 

“You can, uh, put the leftovers in the fridge,” he announces.

 

Haru nods, his face buried in a tissue. Sousuke glances at the table to see a large pile of them crumpled up.

 

“The trashcan is under the sink,” he mumbles.

 

Something about Haru keeps him standing at the opposite end of the couch. He doesn’t think there’s anything he can do to comfort the other, but it doesn’t feel right to walk down the hallway and leave him alone. Sousuke isn’t sentimental or particularly empathetic, but he’s not a block of wood either.

 

“I’m cold,” Haru says in a voice that’s hardly above a whisper. 

 

Haru’s voice shakes as he speaks, and the words are somewhat swallowed in a sob. Sousuke hears them anyway and returns with a blanket. He stands holding the blanket in his arms and looking at Haru, who hasn’t moved except for to pull another tissue out of the box. 

 

“I’ll just leave this here.” Sousuke drops the blanket over the back of the couch next to Haru, and then he really does make an exit.

 

Although it’s only a little after seven in the evening, Sousuke thinks of going to bed. He showers first. The hot water helps relax the muscles aching from hours spent hunched over a desk at work and then hours spent stressing over his uninvited guest. The shower washes away muscle aches and stress, and by the time he walks out, he has all but forgotten Haru. He remembers, of course, and just in time. He usually walks from the shower to the bedroom naked, and the hallway is visible from the living room. It’s not that he thinks Haru will be looking, he just wants to have some decency. Sousuke wraps a towel firmly around his waist and walks quickly from his bathroom to his bedroom and shuts the door.

 

Usually, he makes an effort to shut off all the lights before bed, to save money on his electricity bill, but tonight he leaves it up to Haru. If he has to pay a little extra at the end of the month, he’ll live.

 

Sousuke lies in bed staring at the ceiling for a very long time. The hand he used to guide Haru up the stairs feels a little warmer than the other. It’s strange. This is the first time he touched Haruka, and that shouldn’t really be a big deal, but it is. Sousuke isn’t a touchy person. Sure, he fistbumps Rin and even goes through that handshake with him that they made up when they were kids–yes, they still do it whenever they see each other. Supporting Haru came naturally to him, he hadn’t even thought about it at the time, but he does now. He curls his hand into a fist. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something these hands won’t break.

 

Haruka Nanase is in his living room having some sort of breakdown, and Sousuke is clueless. He’s never hated himself so much for not knowing what to do. He sort of wants to call Rin, because Rin is better at personal stuff; he knows this is personal for Haru. He already feels like he’s seen things he shouldn’t, and he doesn’t want to just spill what happened even to his best friend. He lays an arm over his eyes. And though his room is already dark, it provides another extra layer of darkness. It’s space to think and wonder and work himself up over things he doesn’t have control over. The most prominent of those is Haru.

 

He vaguely recalls the morning and Rin’s stupid misunderstanding. Could that have anything to do with Haru now? His fingers pinch his forehead to stave of the headache that he can feel forming. Thinking too much is never good, but in his situation, Sousuke has nothing else to do. At some point, he drifts off to sleep.

 

Sousuke’s dreams are full of Haruka. He remembers their first meeting and the way Haru’s eyes captured his. He remembers going through swimming competition after swimming competition and always feeling a little extra rush if Haru was around. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how much Haru has been present in his mind if not his life. Yes, he’s not close to Haru, but he feels like he is sometimes because of how much Rin talks.

 

His dreams are also full of water, which fits with the Haru theme. There’s nothing solid and everything feels fluid. Memories morph from one to another, and soon he can’t tell what’s a memory and what’s his not-very-active imagination.

 

Sousuke wakes with a start when his alarm goes off at seven. He curses. He’d forgotten to turn it off for the weekend last night, and it takes him a couple of minutes to realize why. When he does, all traces of fatigue leave him. He slowly gets out of bed, stretching his back and taking care to stretch both shoulders too. His shoulder is better now, mostly, but it acts up some of the time. Standing, Sousuke adjusts his shirt, long-sleeved because it’s winter, and quietly opens his bedroom door. The floor creaks only slightly as he tiptoes out to the living room. He doesn’t want to wake Haru if he’s still asleep.

 

Part of Sousuke hopes that the last twelve hours or so has just been some crazy sort of dream, but he knows better. He stops at the doorway to the split living room and kitchen. Haru is still on his couch. He’s curled up now with the blanket Sousuke brought sloppily tucked around his shoulders. If the slow breathing and closed eyes are any indication, Haruka is still sleeping deeply. He stands at the end of the couch for a good few minutes. There’s a sense of peace now, and maybe it’s just because Haru is sleeping, but Sousuke can’t help the weary smile that creeps across his face. He quickly turns away when he realizes that it might be considered creepy to stare at Haruka while he sleeps, and tries to busy himself in the kitchen. 

 

He may care for Haruka and want him to sleep, but Sousuke is also hungry, and that comes first. He tries to put the frying pan on the stove without much noise, and succeeds in there being only a small  _ clang _ . He’s not trying anything fancy this morning, only eggs and toast. As he reaches into the fridge, he wonders briefly if he should cook for two, but then decides against it. Haru’s still asleep anyway, and there’s no knowing when he’ll wake up.

 

As he reaches into the fridge, he notes that Haru’s plate from the night before is there. It looks like some of the food is gone, but not much. Looking at the partially eaten meal, he recalls that Haru tends not to eat a whole lot if their lunches are any indication. He glances back towards the living room. Does Haru eat enough? Sousuke shakes his head to clear it. He shouldn’t worry so much about Haruka, the other is a grown man, right? Plus, Sousuke doesn’t really have a right to worry about him. If it was Rin, he would have woken him already and shoved a plate in his face. If it was Rin sitting in his living room, Sousuke would’ve yelled at him already, but Haru doesn’t elicit that response. Sousuke taps himself on the forehead. His thoughts don’t make sense, and his thoughts that have anything to do with Haru definitely don’t make sense.

 

He cooks breakfast with more care than he usually does. Sometimes, Sousuke’s cooking involves swearing as he accidentally touches his hand to the hot handle of the pan or drops something he meant to use. Today, he tries not to. When his hand briefly brushes against the frying pan, he curses under his breath before running it under cold tap water. Cooking breakfast while being silent takes a toll on his nerves. He can’t count the times he nearly drops something or nearly knocks the glass of orange juice over. Somehow, he makes it through without any large mishaps. Sousuke sits at the kitchen table, his back purposefully toward the living room; he knows his eyes will fall on Haru too often if he faces it.

 

“Yamazaki?” The tired voice comes from only a few feet behind him, and it makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

 

It makes him drop his fork anyway, but, luckily, it falls onto the table. Sousuke lets himself settle for a second before turning to face Haru. He notices that Haru’s eyes are still red and maybe a little swollen, but doesn’t say anything about it. If Haru wants to talk, he’ll listen, but he won’t ask. Well, he’ll try, at least. He doesn’t have patience like Makoto, but he’s also not on as short a fuse as Rin. He also likes to think he doesn’t care about Haruka as much as Rin or Makoto, so that he can listen with more detachment. Whether he really does or doesn’t care, though, is up for debate.

 

“What is it, Haruka?” He asks, and pretends not to see the way Haruka’s eyes widen at the sound of his first name.

“Bathroom.”

 

Sousuke pretends he’s not disappointed that Haru doesn’t want to talk.

“First and only door on the left.”

  
Haru turns away, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and jacket still on. His barefeet pad along the floorboards, down the hallway, and out of sight. Sousuke turns back to his unfinished breakfast. What the hell has he gotten himself into? He wouldn’t change his actions, but it’s still a lot to take. Maybe he should call Rin–or Makoto–, but that still feels like a violation of Haruka’s privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. *sighs* Hope this seems reasonably in character and realistic. That's what I'm hoping for anyway. Things lighten up a bit next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru heads for home leaving Sousuke with any number of things to think about.

Sousuke is finishing breakfast when he hears the water start running. He should have known; he really should have known. This is Haru he’s dealing with, and judging from the number of Rin’s stories of Haru jumping into aquariums or fountains or any other small bodies of water Sousuke really should have known. For the time being, he chooses to ignore it. What would he do, anyway? Kick Haru out of the tub? For all he knows, Haru could be naked in there, and he doesn’t want to deal with that anyway and, oh–oh shit–he has to take a cold shower. The problem is Haru is in his tub where the shower is. Sousuke tries desperately to make his blood flow to more proper places.

 

He washes his dishes angrily and half-heartedly tries not to break any. He’s annoyed that Haru makes him feel this way, but he’s not surprised. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about Haru before. He’s always admired the way Haru looks–who hasn’t? To be honest, Sousuke has admired Haru for as long as he can remember. Meeting when they were kids, he was entranced, like everyone else, by the beauty of Haru’s swimming. He used to hope he’d grow out of it, but he never did. As he grew older, instead of forgetting about Haru, he starts paying more attention to the way Haru looks in those jammers and how little they leave to the imagination.

 

Instead of thinking of Haru, Sousuke stares at the TV trying to focus his attention on the reporters and the weather. When that doesn’t work, he browses through the channels looking for something that might keep his mind distracted. He watches some stupid cooking show for a little while, before switching the channel back to the news. If it’s the news, there’s a chance he’ll pick up something useful, at least. Sousuke stares at the screen but his attention wanders.

 

About forty-five minutes later, Haru emerges from the bathroom and all he’s wearing is the damn blanket. Sousuke is sitting on the couch staring at the TV for want of something better to do when he sees Haruka. Haru has the blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders, and all that’s visible is his head and a bit of his ankles and feet. 

 

“I’ll leave now,” Haru mumbles.

 

Sousuke stares at him. He tries not to care about what other people do, but Haruka is not walking out of his apartment wearing only a blanket.

 

“Like that?” Sousuke asks incredulously.

“Like what?”

 

It’s times like this that Sousuke hopes that Haru isn’t serious and is just messing with him. However, the shorter male is making his way towards the door with no signs of stopping. He usually doesn’t care much for appearances, but he is not letting a man dressed in a blanket walk out of his apartment. What would his neighbors think?

 

“I’ll lend you some clothes. Stay there.”

 

Sousuke doesn’t look back to check if Haru is actually waiting, but instead rushes to his bedroom and digs through his closet. Glancing at through his clothing, he knows most of it will be way, way to big on Haru, but at least it’s better than walking outside in a blanket. Sousuke grabs a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. It’s blue.  _ Haru likes blue, right?  _ Sousuke mentally kicks himself.  _ Does it fucking matter? _ He rushes back down the hallway and holds the garments up.

 

“I can wear my own clothes,” Haru mutters, and turns to walk towards the bathroom.

 

Sousuke stares at him again. If Haru was just going to wear his own clothing, why, exactly, did he walk out of the bathroom in a blanket?

 

“Just take these.” 

 

Sousuke grits his teeth. Maybe he doesn’t really like Haru after all. Haru is a good friend of Rin’s, and that’s why Sousuke has to put up with this; that’s all.

 

Haru looks at the clothes and then up at Sousuke. Without saying anything he snakes an arm out from under the blanket and holds his palm up. Sousuke drops the clothes into Haru’s open hand. Haru has the decency to go to the bathroom to change. When he comes back from the bathroom, the blanket is folded over one arm and Haru’s own clothes are stacked and held under the other. He puts the blanket down on the coffee table. Without making eye contact he walks to stand a little to the side of Sousuke.

 

“Thanks, Yama–Sousuke.” 

 

Haru’s voice is quiet and constricted. It sounds thick with unshed tears and a part of Sousuke, the protective part, wants to wrap Haru in his arms. He doesn’t. One, Haru might kill him; two, well, that’s basically it. He doesn’t want Haru to hate him. Still, his arms twitch, and he has to fight the urge to walk over to at least close the distance between them.

 

“Just ‘Suke, was fine.” Sousuke cringes.  _ What is wrong with you, Yamazaki _ ? 

 

He almost looks away when Haru turns to stare at him, but something about Haru’s bright blue eyes holds his gaze in place. Haru’s expression is blank, and Sousuke fights the flush rising over his face.

 

“What?” Haru’s voice is flat and still constricted, but less so.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Sousuke breaks eye contact, turning his instead to the TV.

 

Sousuke takes a couple of steps towards the couch. Haru can leave, if he wants to, and Sousuke doesn’t need to talk to him. He stands with his arms held awkwardly a little out from his sides and not making eye contact. 

 

“Thanks, ‘Suke.”

 

Haru rushes out the door after that, trying not to trip over the too-long pants. He hopes Sousuke didn’t see how red his face. He closes the door a little loudly, and stands outside of it; his breath is a little fast and his heart is thudding in his chest. He’s glad Sousuke didn’t ask anything, glad Sousuke didn’t kick him out, glad Sousuke was just there. The small seed of comfort in his chest warms him even through the still swirling storm of other emotions and fears. He puts on the shoes that he picked up as he ran out, and starts to head for home.

 

When he walks outside, he doesn’t immediately recognize where he is. It takes a few wrong turns to get to a street he recognizes. And from there, he makes it home easily. Apparently he only lives a few blocks away from Sousuke. He quickly wipes away the smile that appears at the thought. Haru walks up the outside stairs to his apartment and fumbles for the key. There’s a moment of panic when he doesn’t find it, before he remembers he probably didn’t lock his door. He didn’t. Haru crosses the threshold and breathes deeply. His apartment seems cold and empty, where Sousuke’s felt warm and welcoming. He sets down the stack of clothes on the kitchen counter, and tries not to notice how comfortable Sousuke’s shirt is as he goes through his kitchen to find tea and something to eat.

 

Back at Sousuke’s apartment, Sousuke is left staring at the closed door. Haru’s most recent words to him echo in his head. His face is somewhat warm, and his heartbeat feels a little quick.  _ ‘Suke. _ He just gained a new nickname. 

 

With Rin calling him Sou, and Haru calling him ‘Suke, he has a complete name. If Rin is his beginnings, Haru will be his ends. It completes him. He’s not a hopeless romantic like his best friend, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind if Haru was his last. A moment later finds Sousuke with his head planted against the wall, face red and eyes closed. He hits his head on the wall without too much force. Maybe he can knock stupid thoughts out of his head. He is not in love, he tells himself; he isn’t.

 

Rin was his first love before he really knew what love was. He followed the redhead and sacrificed for him. It was a childish, immature kind of thing that lasted too long. He flinches at the memories of what that brought about. He lashed out at other people around him as his shoulder worsened; he lashed out at Haruka. After high school, through college, he went through more, and more PT sessions and got his shoulder back in shape, well tried to. He tended to skip out on meeting with his physical therapist, because he hated being there. Rin yelled at him a lot back then, and he knows he deserved it. Then he remembers Olympics. He still chased Rin around for the first couple years, and then stopped. He had to have his own life, and grudgingly went to his father’s company.

 

He remembers the day when he fell out of love with Rin, or rather, the day he realized it. Rin called him from some far-off place to gush about new person he found, and Sousuke didn’t feel the familiar clench in his chest. There was no jealous instinct, only an eye roll and a “Rin, don’t fall in love after three hours.” After he was off the phone, he held it in his hand, squeezing the device to assure himself that it was real, and that he wasn’t in love with his best friend any more.

 

Sousuke collapses on the couch. He absentmindedly looks at the TV that’s still displaying something or other. For just past eight in the morning, he feels like a hell of a lot has happened. A whole day stretches out ahead of him. There’s so much he could do, but there’s nothing in particular he feels like doing.

 

The sound of his cell ringing from his bedroom makes him leave the couch to see who it is. It could be important. He misses answering the call by a couple of seconds. The number is unknown. If the person calling him really cares, it’ll go to voicemail. Half a minute later, the notification for one message in his voicemail shows up. Sousuke puts the phone up to his ear; he may as well see what it’s about.

 

_ “Hey, Sousuke…this is Makoto. I called Haru a few minutes ago, and I just, uh, want to thank you.” _

 

The message is short, but it has a definite effect on Sousuke. He feels himself redden, and there’s something like pride that swells in his chest. He knows Makoto is probably the nicest person on earth and an actual angel, but being appreciated is a lovely thing.

 

The next person to call is Rin. Sousuke answers with a sigh.

 

“Ok, I’m sorry I was kind of a dick yesterday.”

“Good morning,” Sousuke mutters. 

 

The events of the previous morning are coming back to him. Right, Rin misconstrued something he said into “Haru and I are dating.” He wonders if Haru’s breakdown had anything to do with that, and sincerely hopes Haru doesn’t find the idea of them being together a trigger.

 

“Makoto talked some sense into me again, so…can you, tell, Haru I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be a baby, tell him yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Rin sounds reluctant, and Sousuke sighs. Why is his best friend such a pain some of the time?

“He’s not here anyways,” Sousuke adds.

“What? Wait, what do you mean ‘not here’? Holy shit, did you kidnap him?”

“No? What the fuck, Rin–I don’t kidnap people. Didn’t Makoto tell you what happened?”

 

Sousuke sits down heavily. He can’t deal with Rin and expect to stay standing for too long. While Rin’s energy sometimes fills him with excitement, it wears him down other times, and this feels like one of these times.

 

“Makoto just said you helped Haru out, because he was feeling shitty–Makoto didn’t say that part. He thought it might’ve had something to do with something I said…wasn’t sure, though.”

“Well, fuck,” Sousuke mumbles. 

 

If Makoto didn’t tell Rin where Haru slept the night before, Sousuke is sure he doesn’t want to. There’s no other way to explain it though.

 

“So Haru was at your apartment, huh?” Sousuke can practically hear Rin wriggling his eyebrows at him.

“He was upset, and I let him in. That’s all.”

“Sure,  _ sure. _ ”

“Go fuck yourself, Rin.”   
“Nah, I have someone to do that for me.”

 

Sousuke nearly drops the phone. He really should know Rin by now. Rin is passionate and falls in and out of love. He runs on the high of being at a competition and finds someone else to share that feeling with. It’s probably someone new that Rin met while in France, and Sousuke will probably hear enough about it soon.

 

“I was going to tell you later.” Rin hardly sounds apologetic. “But, I couldn’t resist. You’re coming to lunch with Makoto and me next Saturday.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No. You’d come if we invited you anyway, no biggie. I’ll text you the time and place, and don’t get lost.”

“Shut up!” 

Rin laughs harder than he should, given how often he teases Sousuke about this; apparently, some things never get old.

“See you in a week, you ass.” 

  
Sousuke hangs up before Rin has a chance to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was tough to write. The next hurdle is coming, but there should be a few chapters to regroup…Also, I'm not as good at writing Rin, so he may be a bit OOC. I'll try T_T
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru deals. The two pairs of best friends meet up for the first time in a long time.

When Haru gets home, he has a missed call from Makoto. It’s been awhile since they talked, and he’s not particularly in the mood for a phone conversation. He picks up when Makoto calls again, though. If he didn’t, he’d have to deal with questions about why he didn’t, so it’s easier just to talk to his friend. He ends up giving Makoto a summarized version of the previous day’s events, and tries to leave Sousuke’s name out of it as much as possible. When he does talk about Sousuke, there’s a moment when he stumbles over his given name before returning to “Yamazaki.” He knows Makoto notices, but his best friend doesn’t say a thing.

 

Haru also mentions Rin’s teasing them about being an item, and he can’t help the waver in his voice. Makoto is a little quieter after that. After all, Makoto is the only person he’s really talked about relationships with. Comfort and quiet are things Haru seeks, while he also prefers to be alone and untouched. At first, Makoto said he’d meet the right person, but they both eventually came to realize that Haru’s crushes were different than Makoto’s or Rin’s. Haru might want to be emotionally close to someone, or be pleased an aesthetic sense, but he never wanted them physically.

 

Makoto assures Haru he’ll tell Rin to lay off it and ends the call, with a “call if you need anything, I’ll check in later.” Haru sets the phone down quickly, thankful for the solitude. Even though he fell asleep on Sousuke’s couch, he’s still tired. His brain is still attempting to swamp him with fears and worries and doubts and what-ifs that he doesn’t want to deal with. Haru settles into bed a few minutes later. He huddles under the covers and pulls up the collar of his shirt so that it covers half his face to block out the cold air of his apartment. He falls asleep within a couple minutes. The long sleeves of the borrowed shirt cover his hands, and he feels warm.

 

Haru wakes a few hours later surrounded by unfamiliar comfort. It takes him a while to realize why. Sousuke’s clothes are somehow more comfortable than his own even if they are a few, or several, sizes too large. The fabric is worn, but still soft, and has a comforting scent. His hands tremble as he wraps himself more tightly in Sousuke’s too-large clothes, not sparing a thought as to why. Haru drifts to sleep again, he’s more at peace than he has been in a while. He’s both tired and refreshed from releasing a ton of emotion the day before, and he can’t be bothered with thinking about any new complexities that may have arisen.

 

When Haru makes his way out to the kitchen, sweatpants rolled up to his knees and a blanket around his shoulder, it’s half-past three in the afternoon. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, feeling more rested than he has for a while.

 

Makoto calls again, when Haru’s eating a small meal that he put together. His phone is plugged in and sitting on the counter. Haru sighs quietly at hearing Makoto’s distinct ringtone, and walks over to answer it.

 

“Hey, Haru, I forgot something earlier.”

 

Haru doesn’t respond, but waits for makoto to continue.

 

“I’ll be in Tokyo for a little while, and Rin’s going to be back from his competitions. We’re going to lunch next Saturday, will you be there? Oh, and, Rin said he’d ask Yamazaki, too.”

 

At the last part, Haru’s mood turns slightly apprehensive. Is Sousuke being invited supposed to make him want to go? 

 

“I’ll be there if I can,” he replies, and hangs up the call.

 

It’s been awhile since he’s seen Rin or Makoto. While Makoto visits every few months, he hasn’t seen Rin for the whole year. He’s also unsure of how to feel about Sousuke now. Sousuke is a comfort, but Haru doesn’t know if the other man will look at him the same. Who would? After all, Haru knows he completely lost it and left Sousuke clueless. He chokes back bile as he thinks of next Saturday. He will try to go, but his anxiety may hold him back.

 

Haru lets out another sigh and puts the rest of his lunch in the fridge. His appetite is gone.

 

Over the next week, Haru manages to return to his job. Takahashi doesn’t ask questions, except for “Are you feeling better?” That alone almost makes him want to leave. It’s uncomfortable to be faced with the consequences of his anxiety, even when the attacks are gone. He’s more silent at work that day, and Takahashi doesn’t ask him anything else.

 

The week passes slowly, and Haru doesn’t go to the pool as usual, because he doesn’t want to run into Yamazaki. He knows his reasoning is probably foolish, but if the way Sousuke looks at him has changed, he doesn’t want to see it. He’s already experienced Rin’s anger and Makoto’s pity. All he wants is acceptance and quiet understanding. He loves Makoto, as a friend, of course, but Makoto can pry too deeply even if his presence is a comfort ninety percent of the time. Haru tries to mask his anxiety and not talk about it, because he doesn’t want questions or pity. He doesn’t want to see what Yamazaki gives him.

 

On Friday night, Haru goes to bed with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to let his friends down the next day, but he also doesn’t particularly want to see them, and yet he does. He misses the constant reminders that he’s not alone. His sleep is punctuated by unnamed nightmares, and he wakes in the morning feeling less rested than when he went to bed. Haru spends his morning in the bath, trying to wash away lingering doubts and the anxiety that plagues him. It helps a little.

 

The alarm on his phone goes off at eleven-thirty, and he wrenches himself out of the tub. 

 

“Breathe deep,” he mutters to himself and tries to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest.

 

Haru dresses himself in a sweater that’s a little too large and khakis. The sweater is gray and warm, perfect for the cold weather. It’s almost big enough that Haru feels like he can hide in it, which is an advantage. He wears a collared shirt underneath it, turning up the collar to shield his face a little. It’s a nice outfit, but also planned to help him feel comfortable as he ventures out. He hasn’t seen Sousuke in a week, Makoto in two-and-a-half months, and Rin in a year. Haru stands in his living room running through a checklist in his mind. Since he’s seeing other people, he needs to be mindful for once. He has his phone and his wallet is in his back pocket. As he stares around the living room, he spots the pile of clothes. They are Sousuke’s, and he should return them. He hesitates before gathering them up. Rin will most definitely say something about it.

 

Haru walks out the door, the shirt and pants borrowed from Sousuke tucked under one arm, screw what Rin will say. The day is cold, though sunny, but it’s not unusual for mid-November. Haru has a scarf around his neck–it’s blue, of course–and earmuffs to protect against the cold. For once, he’s actually remembered to dress for the weather. Knowing Makoto will tell him off if he doesn’t might be a slight motivation.

 

As he approaches the appointed restaurant, he clutches the clothes more tightly under his arm. It feels like something solid to hold onto as his anxiety starts to rise. He repeats “it’ll be fine” about a million times in his head, but he can’t calm his heartbeat. The incident from last week leaves him feeling readier for another breakdown than less. It already happened, so why couldn’t it happen again? The restaurant appears too quickly, and Haru tries to slow his pace. With his nerves, though, he still walks faster than he normally would and is through the restaurant doors too soon. The hostess greets him as he enters.

 

“I’m meeting friends.” He manages to tell her.

 

He stands off to the side of the entrance. He’s a few minutes early. He’d wanted to leave his apartment while he still had the determination to do so, but now that he was in the restaurant with no signs of his friends, Haru wants to return to his solitary life and his apartment. He has no such luck, because the next person through the door is Makoto. The taller man waves at the sight of Haru, and Haru can’t help but crack a smile. After all, it’s just Makoto, someone he’s known his whole life and has never ceased accepting him and being patient with him. Haru breathes a small sigh of relief. Maybe this lunch wouldn’t be so bad.

 

Makoto goes up to the hostess, taking off a hat with a large pompom on top of it as he makes his way. Somehow, he seems taller than he was before, which Haru knows is ridiculous since they’re 25 and should be done growing. 

 

Soon, Haru is following Makoto and the hostess to a table in a mostly unoccupied corner of the restaurant. It’s a booth by the window, which makes it feel more open and Haru feel less trapped. Makoto takes the seat opposite him, and Haru scoots close to the window. He sits with his hands tucked under the table still holding the pile of clothes. Makoto asks him about his job, and for once, Haru is thankful for random small talk. Thinking about the café is a lot easier than thinking about anything else. Still, Haru doesn’t talk much. He simply says a few things about what he does in the kitchen and how he’s learned to make an americano.

 

Within a few minutes, the other half of their party arrives. Sousuke is trailing Rin looking slightly disgruntled, but Rin has a wide smile as usual.

 

“Sorry, we’re a bit late–found this idiot wandering around the wrong street.” Rin jerks his thumb towards Sousuke. “Anyway, hey, Haru, it’s been a while!”

 

Haru nods as Rin moves in for an obvious hug. The redhead stands expectantly with his arms open wide. By now, you’d think Rin would know. Haru glares at his friend and stays seated. After a few seconds Rin gives in and slides into the booth next to Makoto.

 

“Haru, you’re such a dick,” Rin complains. “Makoto doesn’t do that, right?”

 

Makoto flushes red, but accepts Rin’s hug. To Haru, it seems drawn out. Rin adds an extra squeeze before letting go, and Makoto stays red for a good few minutes after they separate.

 

Glancing at Makoto and Rin, Sousuke has no choice but to sit next to Haru. He perches awkwardly at the edge of the booth, maximizing the distance between Haru and himself. Sousuke leans back and picks up a menu, which he looks very interested in. Haru keeps his hands folded over the stack of clothes in his lap. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like the right time to give them back.

 

“Let’s order some food, and then we’ll talk,” Rin says, picking up his own menu and thumbing through it.

  
Haru glances down at the table where another menu is placed. He feels slightly queasy and slightly trapped, but he knows not ordering anything would stand out. His eyes scan for mackerel and quickly decides upon a dish. As they wait for a server to appear, Makoto and Rin seem to be the only contributors to the conversation. They manage to talk about stray cats and French wine within three minutes of each other, and Haru can’t really fathom how. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, setting up some new stuff…I'm not that good at writing Mako either T_T Ah, Rei and Nagisa should show up at some point, but I'm not sure how yet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least their best friends are happy.

Before long, the server comes by to take their orders. Without the menu as an excuse for not talking, Haru stares out the window instead. The restaurant is located on a busy street, and there are a number of interesting-looking people outside. He spots couples and groups of friends. There’s a businessman in a stiff-looking black suit whose rushing somewhere; there’s a single lady in her mid-twenties with a small dog on a leash; there’s a college student with his face stuck in this week’s Jump magazine, and countless others. Haru wishes he had his sketchbook to distract himself, but instead settles on engraving their faces and proportions into the reference book in his head. As an artist, he measures them with straight edges and angles.

 

“Haru. Oi, Haru!” It’s Rin speaking, and Haru reluctantly takes his eyes away from the window.

“What?” He asks, tone flat.

“Have you been swimming lately?”

 

Haru narrows his eyes. Rin has never lost his penchant for demanding they race, even after they were both in national and international competitions and finally, the Olympics.

 

“I’m not racing,” he says preemptively.

 

Rin pulls the sad-puppy look on him, but Haru glances away. If they were at a pool, it would be impossible to turn Rin down. But, as it is, they are in a restaurant and can’t go swimming for a good while after they eat. 

 

“Ugh, fine.” Rin rolls his eyes. “Just kill the mood, will ya?”

“What mood?” Haru looks back at the redhead innocently.

Then, Makoto chooses to intervene before Rin has a chance to get angry. “Maybe we can go swimming later? Like tomorrow? I’ll be staying in Tokyo for a few days, so we have time.”

 

Luckily, their food comes soon after, and Haru picks at his making sure it lasts. The rest of the conversation continues with more random small talk between Makoto and Rin. During the meal, Haru glances at Sousuke once or twice. It’s been a week since they saw each other, and they haven’t spoken at all, not even through text. There’s a longing in his thoughts as he measures the distance between them in his mind. They are less than a meter apart, but Haru has no idea what Sousuke’s thinking.

 

Lunch takes a painfully long time for Haru. They finishes their food, and Haru has half of his put in a box to take home. He has a little more left over than usual, but not even Makoto says anything about eating properly. The queasiness is still there, maybe worse, and Haru wishes the outing would end. It’s not that he dislikes seeing his friends, it’s the atmosphere there today. It feels different than before, and the distance between him and Sousuke is more painful than it should be. Haru doesn’t dare name the reason why.

 

Rin insists on ordering dessert, and Haru lets out a small sigh. It’s more time before he’s free again. He turns his gaze back to the window. There are still a number of people walking past. Some walk quickly, some don’t. He watches how they walk. There are people who walk in long strides and others who take smaller steps. He observes how they place their weight and how much of it they let rest on any given step. He watches how their clothes hang. Coats tend to be stiff and they move in a more stilted way while scarves flow behind people or are tucked around their ears. Haru takes in the crowd as a source of inspiration for the sketches he draws, but, again, he finds his process interrupted.

 

“Haru, Sousuke,” Rin begins.

 

Haru raises an eyebrow at the formal tone Rin has adopted. He can sense Sousuke next to him straighten in his seat.

 

“I have a boyfriend.” Rin glances at them, but there’s no particular surprise in that. “And, he’s right here.”

 

Makoto is very red and is staring very hard at the table. Haru glances from one to the other. It seems like it’s true, if anything is to be gleaned from Makoto’s embarrassed reaction. It’s not prank Rin would pull anyway.

 

“Ok,” Haru says. It’s not his business who his friends date, unless it hurts them. He thinks Makoto and Rin will be fine. And if they’re not, he’ll offer Makoto a shoulder to cry on and whatever bits of advice he can muster despite his own lack of experience.

 

On the other hand, Sousuke is gaping at them trying to form words.

  
“Wait, what? Rin–you–I thought…Makoto?” Sousuke rests his chin on his hands, letting himself slump into the table. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” Rin replies, happily elbowing Makoto in the side.

“Yeah, he is,” Makoto mutters, still too embarrassed to look up.

 

It takes a while for Sousuke to regain control of his vocal chords and ask how it happened. Rin, of course goes into reminiscence mode, and Haru can practically see the sparkles around him. He’s seen Rin in a new relationship before, they all had, but he hopes, for Makoto’s sake, that it’s more than a fit of Rin’s passion. From what he picks up from Rin’s story, he’s actually always loved Makoto, but didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago. Sousuke opens his mouth to debate it, but glances at Makoto and thinks better of it. If they’re happy, then that’s fine.

 

A few minutes later, Makoto and Rin say goodbye. They manage to let slip that they’re staying in the same hotel room and Haru blanches slightly. He really doesn’t want to think about what they’ll be up to. And then Makoto and Rin are gone in a flurry of smiles and blushes and waves goodbye. Sousuke stands up to go as well, and Haru slides out of the booth. The pile of clothing nearly falls off of his lap, but he catches it before it does. He stares at it for a moment before remembering why he brought the clothes.

 

“These are yours.” Haru holds out the stack to Sousuke.

Sousuke takes them after a moment’s hesitation. “Thanks.”

 

That should be it for the conversation. During lunch, they hardly exchanged a word, talking mostly to Makoto or Rin. They should go now and continue not talking. Haru knows they’ll meet again the next time Makoto and Rin drag them somewhere. He’s been questioning his whole friendship with Sousuke over the past week, and there’s no particular reason to stay. However, neither of them moves. Haru keeps his eyes on the floor, so he doesn’t know where Sousuke’s looking. If he were to guess, he would say he could feel the teal gaze on his face.

 

“I didn’t see you at the pool this week,” Sousuke comments, taking a stiff step towards the door.

Haru follows. 

“I was busy. Making up time at work, and stuff.” His voice sounds higher-pitched than usual, but only slightly unsteady.

 

They nod goodbye to the hostess and walk out of the restaurant’s doors. There’s another pause as they hover outside of the entryway. Cold wind whips around them and Haru buttons his jacket up to his nose. Sousuke stands clutching the pile of clothing and looking down at his hands, and Haru has his arms folded with his eyes on Sousuke’s shoes. They’re nice shoes, he would point out, but that has nothing to do with the silence between them.

 

“Thanks…again,” Haru murmurs, breaking the silence with a voice hardly even a whisper.

“Anytime,” comes the automatic reply. “I mean–I don’t really want that to happen again, but I’ll…I want to… Fuck. Give me a moment.”

 

Haru lets his glance trail upward to Sousuke’s shoulder. The feeling between them has changed, and there’s something hanging in the air between them. It’s a turning point; Haru can feel it. It may be dramatic, but the thinks that whatever happens next will change his life. He’s not sure if he wants Yamazaki to be the one to change his life, but with things like this, there’s hardly ever a choice.

 

“Go out with me.” 

 

Haru’s eyes snap immediately to Sousuke’s.

 

“Please,” Sousuke adds, and there’s a note of pleading that hooks in Haru’s chest and tugs at his heart painfully, but he takes a step back.

 

“I’m,” Haru begins a sentence he doesn’t know how to end, and he’s surprised to hear how much his voice is shaking. “I can’t.”

 

Haru turns his gaze to the ground. There’s a sense of something crashing around him. It’s the fall of unnamed hopes and the chance to be a little closer to someone.

 

“Can’t?” The way Sousuke echoes the word seems hollow, but Haru doesn’t lift his head to make eye contact. 

“You’re straight, aren’t you?” Sousuke lets the words hang in the air.

 

The words come as a shock. It’s not what Haru expected, but he can’t find the breath to reply.  _ Wrong _ , he answers in his head, even though he knows Sousuke won’t hear it.  _ It’s not that, it’s– _ Haru can’t speak the words he’s thinking. His mouth opens, but it’s no use. Sousuke can’t hear him if he can’t talk.

 

“Why did I think this was a good idea? Forget it. I’ll see you the next time Rin and Makoto feel like dragging us along.  See you later, Nanase.”

 

Haru feels his frame shudder at the tone of voice.  _ Nanase? _ Something in him snaps. His head jerks up, but all he sees is Sousuke’s back. People pass between them, and all Haru can do is stare. Within seconds, there isn’t a trace of the tall swimmer in the crowd. Haru’s knees shake under his weight, and when a stranger accidentally bumps against him, Haru falls against the outside wall of the building.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his breath catches in his throat and he needs to gasp for air. His hands clasp tightly over his mouth. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. His eyes fall to the ground again, and he sees the clothes he tried to return to Sousuke strewn across the ground. The sight in front of him hurts more than it should, and Haru makes his way forward, slowly, to pick them up again. He’s left with pieces, that he gathers with trembling hands.

 

Sousuke leaves before Haru forms words, because he doesn’t need to hear what the other man will say. He’d asked on a whim–in an uncharacteristic fit of something or other. Sousuke walks faster, picking up the pace in whatever direction his feet take him. He’ll make it home eventually, and then he won’t see Haru again until he has to. They can act like nothing happened; for Rin, for Makoto, they can deal with each other.

 

He comes to a halt in some residential neighborhood. The bright lights of the commercial strip with the movie theater are gone, and Sousuke has half a mind to turn around and find some place to drown the memories of the last few minutes. It’s still day time though, and it feels wrong. There’s too much time before he can lie down and sleep, and he’s not sure he wants to anyway. As he stands, he comes to the conclusion that he and Haru should continue their mostly separate existence. He can’t deny that he has been attracted to Haru, but that’s mostly physical–he hardly knows the other man. Rin’s stories hardly count.

 

He returns to the busy street without really thinking about it. His feet carry him there, and his hand tries to wave down a taxi. He doesn’t feel like walking and wandering, because he’s tired. At the same time, he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He eyes the bar across the street. The sky is getting darker and evening is approaching. It’s a weekend night, and there’s nothing wrong with going for a drink or two. Sousuke lets his hand fall to his side; he doesn’t need a taxi. The street is busy, but Sousuke weaves between the cars and ends up at the doors of the bar.

  
There’s an “open” sign hanging in the front window. He knows he needs some kind of distraction or else he won’t be able to get Haru out of his head. He’s the only person in the place. It’s not even dinner time yet, but it doesn’t matter. It’s unlikely that he’ll run into anyone he knows. Rin and Makoto are probably being lovey dovey somewhere, and there’s no one else he doesn’t want to find him. Well, there’s Haru, but that’s the very reason why he’s walking into a bar at 4:30 in the afternoon in the first place. Sousuke sits down heavily, and orders a three shots without even looking at the bartender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's the next drama starting. I've been kind of exhausted lately, but I'm still trying to find time to write orz


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in Sousuke's life, and he talks to Rin. Maybe things won't be so bad after all.

Sousuke wakes the next morning with a pounding headache and a sense of lingering dizziness. There’s an ache in his shoulder and he can’t tell if it’s because he was putting too much weight on it in his sleep or something else. He shifts into a slightly more comfortable position and pulls the blanket up to his chin. He can’t face Sunday morning, and he most definitely cannot face Haru. They were getting along nicely, and he should have stuck with that. Maybe they could have been friends. They both lived in Tokyo, after all, and they both went to the same pool to swim.

 

But now, Haru was probably disgusted with him. He knew, from Rin, that Haru had never been in a relationship, or, at least, they’d never heard about it. He’d seen Haru break one week, and then asked him out on a date the next. What would anyone think of him? Not to mention, his parents would never accept him being in a gay relationship. And now, just because he wasn’t as in control of his emotions as he might like to be, and maybe Haru’s eyes are a little too alluring, he’d ruined a friendship.

 

Sousuke pulls the blanket tighter. It would be nice to lie in bed for the rest of his life without having to see anyone. There would be no one for him to hurt and no one to hurt him. Easy, right? But, unfortunately, the real world calls. Sousuke hears his phone ring on his nightstand, and because of the distinctive tone, he knows it’s his boss. The loud noise rings in his head, but he answers the phone; he has to.

 

“Good morning, Akiyama-san,” Sousuke answers the phone, feigning alertness.

“Ah, Yamazaki-kun, a few of us from the office are planning on lunch today. Fujiwara from public relations will be there, and I’d like to introduce you to a few others, as well.”

 

Sousuke hesitates for a moment. The last thing he wants to do is see people from the office on a day that he doesn’t have to go into work, but, at the moment, he needs the job, and his family is encouraging him–strongly–to stay at the company.

 

“Of course, I’d be glad to.” He tries not to grit his teeth as he says it.

 

He hangs up the call as quickly as he can. He has two hours before he has to be in the high rent district at some fancy place that the others picked. 

 

Sousuke stumbles into the shower a few minutes later. Maybe the hot water will clear his head. He has to be ready to put on his best face in front of the others from the company. It’s not easy to ready himself for the day. Snippets of the conversation with Haru the night before replay in his mind, and regret pulls at the corners of his consciousness. He could have waited until they knew each other better, or, at least, until he was sure of his own feelings. It was stupid. He got caught up in the moment, and, now, who knows what Haru thinks of him? Sousuke slams a fist against the shower wall, but there’s nothing he can do. His hand slip down the wet tile. He can hang onto the wall just about as well as he can get a hold of his feelings.

 

Reaching out to Haru would probably be a bad idea. Talking to Rin would lead to an inordinate amount of teasing, but it’s probably his best option. He lets his hand drop to his side once more. He’ll talk to Rin once he’s done pretending to be interested in company affairs. Sousuke lets his eyes close for just a moment, that’s all the time he gives himself to pause.

 

The time for the meeting comes too quickly, and Sousuke reluctantly hails a taxi to take him to the restaurant. Sousuke plucks at his sweater as he sits in the cab. The ride is fairly short, and it’s not long before he’s swept up in a flurry of handshakes and introductions. There’s no way he’s going to remember all those names. Akiyama claps him on the shoulder and introduces him as an important face of the company.

 

“He’s only been with us for a couple of months, so we have to look after him.”

 

Sousuke notes the lack of warmth in his current superior’s words. He bites back a retort, or at least something along the lines of “I’ll be fine on my own.” He’s not in a position to cause a scene, so he settles for a curt nod instead.

 

They sit down in a private room in the back of the restaurant. Each minute is agonizing as he has to listen to his coworkers make small talk. It turns from the recent news items to personal life, and an uncomfortable feelings settles in the pit of his stomach.  Haru is always difficult to ignore, always has been, even if he’s only a nagging thought in the back of Sousuke’s mind. The question he’s dreading comes faster than he’d expected.

 

“You’re pretty popular with the girls right. Do you have a girlfriend or is it too early to settle?”

 

Fujiwara, his new acquaintance from the stupid manufacturing company, asks it. Sousuke doesn’t have any particular reason to hate the man. He knows him about as well as he wants to, but he has to be civil. He knocks back the rest of the sake in front of him, and tries to answer casually.

 

“No, I’m, uh, busy with work.”

  
It sounds forced even to his own ears, but the other guys don’t seem to notice. They laugh it off calling him a hard worker and inviting him to go out with them the next time they go drinking. Sousuke nods and makes a promise to go that he doesn’t intend to keep.

 

The rest of the outing drags on for hours, or so it seems. They stand at the door of the restaurant, and there are a million handshakes and pleasantries to go through. Sousuke is a little short with his Akiyama, and he hopes his boss doesn’t bother him about it later. He’s always tries to be polite when he’s at work, but his temper has caused him to snap a few times. Akiyama merely says “see you on tomorrow at the office,” and Sousuke breathes a very small sigh of relief. Managing his relationships with his coworkers and superiors is something Sousuke takes no joy in.

 

He elects to take a taxi home. He slips into a taxi alone and closes the door quickly. He’s finally away from the company and he feels whatever kind of stress was keeping him awake leave him no that he’s alone. Sousuke doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until the taxi stops in front of his apartment. He shakes awake and quickly pays the driver for the ride. Sousuke stretches his stiff limbs as he leaves the taxi. Thoughts of his job and father are so prevalent, that he doesn’t  think of Haru again until he unlocks the door of his apartment and stands in the doorway staring at the couch where the smaller swimmer crashed only a week before.

 

His hand grips the doorframe, knuckles turning white. There are too many things he’s juggling. There’s a huge difference between what he wants and what he thinks he has to do. Sousuke enters his apartment, a sort of grim determination on his face. It’s impossible that his family would accept him being in a relationship with another man, but he wants to clear the air with Haru. They should be friends, at least. It would make Makoto and Rin happy, right? Sousuke sits heavily on the couch. He’d promised himself that he would call Rin, because even though Rin might be a little blunt and a little outrageous sometimes, he’s the best friend Sousuke has.

 

“…over there, yeah, wait a minute. Sou? What’s up?”

“Is this a bad time?” He’d forgotten that Makoto was with Rin now, in that hotel room, and Sousuke tries not to be jealous that it’s so easy for them.

“Nah, it’s fine. Hey, you don’t usually call, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I asked Haru out.”

“Wait, Sousuke, that’s great! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were interested in him, but that’s grea–”

“No, it’s not.”

“Rejected? Well, you wouldn’t be the first. Haru, uh, doesn’t really date, but good for you, man.”

“Rin, shut up and listen for a minute. I…I messed up.”

 

On the other end of the phone, Rin takes a seat on the hotel bed. Makoto is taking a shower now, and while whatever happens to Sousuke and Haru is important to both of them, Rin has enough sense to know that Sousuke wants to talk to him alone.

 

“Sou, Haru doesn’t judge people for stuff, you know that right?”

“That’s not the point. Wait, I didn’t know that, but–shit, that’s not what I’m worried about.”

 

Rin lets out a sigh.

  
“Then what is?”

“He was sort of in a delicate state, and then I asked him out. Rin, that’s like the weirdest, stupidest thing I could do.” Sousuke rushes through his words, trying to summarize his feelings without giving too much of himself away.

“Haru would kick your ass if he heard that.”

“But he–it was a bad time–”

“He would still kick your ass. He’s pretty tough when he wants to be. By the way, you should be telling him this, Sou–I’m not the one who needs to hear it. You’re in love with him, right? You should let him know.”

 

The next comment Sousuke has ready dies in his throat. He’s been trying not to acknowledge just how important Haru is to him. The feelings have snuck up on him, and even though he doesn’t really think he’s made it obvious apparently it is. Then again, Rin can be annoyingly perceptive at times. 

 

Rin is right, of course, that they should talk, but it’s not exactly simple to go talk to Haru. If he calls, it probably won’t get answered, and Sousuke isn’t even sure he wants to talk about this. His friendship with Haru is hanging by a thread, and he feels like one wrong comment could break it completely. That is, if it isn’t already hopeless. Sousuke bites his lip. Even if Haru is alright with being friends again, Sousuke wonders if he’ll truly be able to be just friends.

 

Rin breaks the silence. “Sou, Haru’s usually pretty reasonable when you talk to him, just man up. Like, buy him flowers or something–he’ll probably forgive you.”

 

Sousuke is extremely doubtful. The idea is right though, and he hates how his mind automatically skips to the flower shop he passes every day on the way to work. There is about a zero percent chance that he’s going to buy anyone, especially Haru, flowers. That’s what he tells himself until he’s standing right at the doors of said flower shop trying desperately not to think of Rin laughing at him. As he hangs awkwardly around the door, he wonders vaguely if Haru even likes flowers.

 

Sousuke stands at the door to the flower shop for long enough that the clerk, a young woman, finally walks out the front door and asks him if he’s going to buy anything. At the question, Sousuke nearly runs away–what is he doing anyway?–but doesn’t. Flowers aren’t exactly magic, and Rin has stupid ideas about romance most of the time, but Sousuke doesn’t have anything else to try.

 

He picks blue flowers on a whim. He always thinks of blue when he thinks of Haru, and it probably has something to do with swimming and the color of Haru’s eyes–eyes that he absolutely hasn’t been thinking about too much. He doesn’t really know much about Haru, when he thinks about it. Yeah, Haru loves water, just about everyone knows that, and he can’t forget about the way Haru swims. But, again, it’s something a lot of people know, given that Haru is an ex-Olympian and all. 

 

The clerk asks them who they flowers are for, and Sousuke nearly chokes. There’s a clench in his chest as he tries to regain control of his voice. He manages to cough out “a friend,” after a moment, and doesn’t meet her suspicious glance. Sousuke grabs the flowers, now wrapped in tissue paper and heads for the door as quickly as he can.

 

“You know those mean ‘hope’?”

 

Sousuke stops in his tracks and looks back over his shoulder at the clerk. Of course he was aware that some people gave meaning to flowers or whatever, but he just meant it as a gesture of peace. He turns his gaze back to the flowers. There’s a strange feeling in his chest as he looks at the blue petals. The clerk gives him just enough of a knowing smile to make him question how much she knows. When she turns her attention back to the register, Sousuke leaves, the gentle clanging of the bells above the shop door ringing. He pauses a second to look at the flowers once again.

  
“Hope, huh?” He asks, and silently wonders who needs it more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, I'm getting less confident as I right orz Anyway, I think the end is in sight, unless I get the urge to add on other things, but I have a bunch of other ideas that I want to write, too. 
> 
> I felt like putting flower symbolism in, sorry. Irises, blue irises, also mean valor/courage, I believe. I don't know a whole lot of flower meanings, so I googled it. Hopefully I got it right.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention this earlier, but this is unbeta'd, so if there are any grammar errors please point them out. Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's difficult to find the right words, and sometimes you really need words to understand each other. Sousuke is determined, but words aren't his strong suit, and Haru hasn't really figured out what he wants.

At nearly closing time on Sunday night, Haru doesn’t expect anyone to come through the doors of the café. Haru stares from his position behind the display case. He pauses in the middle of taking a tray of scones and nearly drops it as he sees who just walked in. He most definitely does not expect Sousuke, who he’s not entirely sure how to feel about, but that’s who comes walking through the doors. Without making eye contact, he very deliberately puts the tray back, wipes his hands on his apron, and straightens up.

 

“Hello, Sou–” Haru hesitates, it doesn’t feel quite right to call him by his given name now. “Hello, Yamazaki,” Haru finishes his eyes dropping to the scones instead of looking up at the other man.

 

Sousuke swallows at the cold tone of Haru’s voice and nearly walks right back out of the café. He clutches the bouquet of blue irises a little more tightly behind his back. He clears his throat, trying to gather some courage, and he tries to catch Haru’s eyes with his own. He fails. Haru is determinedly staring downwards.

 

“I want to talk to you. Do you have time now?”

 

Haru’s hands clench.

 

“Give me five minutes.”

 

Haru takes the tray of scones, the last things in the display case, and pushes through the swinging door to the kitchen. He sees Takahashi kneading dough on the counter, but he knows that the sound travels easily from the front; he hopes his boss doesn’t comment.

 

“I’ll clean up quickly–” Haru starts to explain, he wants to fulfill his duties as an employee, but Takahashi waves him off.

“It sounded important. I can finish up, just turn the lights off out front.”

 

Takahashi gives him a kind smile, and Haru can’t dispute it. He lets out a small sigh and removes his apron. There’s a heavy weight sitting in his stomach, that’s been there since the night before, and it’s only growing heavier as he delays talking to Sousuke again. He knows there’s not a good escape route, a way to avoid Sousuke now. It’s not that he never wants to see Sousuke, it’s just that it’s difficult to face him now. There are raw emotions laid bare from the day before that he hasn’t examined yet and probably won’t. He thought about calling Makoto, but then remembered that Makoto was with Rin in that hotel room and had decided against it.

 

After smoothing his clothes and grabbing his coat from the back room, he has nothing else to do except for walk out of the kitchen and face Sousuke. He walks slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. Takahashi bids him a cheery goodbye, and Haru returns it with a very small fraction of the same energy. Haru takes a breath to brace himself before he pushes the door open. Sousuke is still standing in front of the register. The moment Haru walks out, Sousuke’s eyes find him. He acknowledges with a small nod of the head.

 

“Let’s walk.” Sousuke suggests awkwardly, and makes for the door.

 

Haru is a step behind him. He walks keeping his own eyes directed at the floor. They walk through the door of the café, and Haru hears the familiar ding of the bell.

 

“You wanted to talk?” He asks quietly, his face still turned away from Sousuke’s.

 

The response is a second of silence, and then Sousuke halts in his tracks. Haru nearly bumps into him but manages to stop.

 

“These are for you,” Sousuke mutters, and Haru can hear the embarrassment in his voice.

 

A bouquet of blue flowers is practically shoved in his face, and Haru stares for a second. The flowers are a shockingly bright blue, but it’s more shocking that Sousuke is even presenting him with a bouquet. It’s much more of a Rin thing to do. Haru can’t help the glance at Sousuke’s face to check that this is serious. This isn’t the first time he’s been handed flowers seemingly for no reason, but it’s the first time like this.

 

Haru reaches out to take the bouquet. His hands brush against Sousuke’s, and they both freeze for a moment. Sousuke lets go quickly as if the bouquet had turned into hot coals.

 

“Thank you.” Haru speaks his gratitude softly, ignoring the warmth that settles alongside the weight in his stomach.

 

They walk a few more steps in silence. This is Sousuke’s idea, so Haru keeps his mouth shut, even though he longs for answers. If he decided to ask questions, he has no idea what he would say. Beside him, Sousuke runs over words in his mind trying to single out the ones that fit together into sentences. He can feel tension in the air between them; he can’t tell if it’s imagined or if Haru really doesn’t want to talk to him. He clears his throat. There’s only so long he can delay for.

 

“I wanted to apologize,” Sousuke states clearly.

 

If he’s going to do this, he’ll do it properly. Either Haru will hate him or not, but with Rin’s words ringing in the back of his mind, Sousuke stands firm in his decision. He pulls a step ahead of Haru and stops. They’re standing in the light of a streetlamp. The bright glare from the commercial district glows in the background, but all Sousuke focuses on is Haru.

 

“I made assumptions, and, uh, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about things. Haruka, I’m– I’m in love with you.”

 

A shiver runs up Haru’s spine. A moment before, he couldn’t meet Sousuke’s eyes, and now he can’t look away. His own eyes are wide, and he shakes slightly under the intensity of Sousuke’s gaze. These are words he’s always dreaded hearing, because it always meant there was another person he had to reject. There were girls who would come up to him starting in his last years of junior high. They saw his face and romanticized the rest of his personality. By the time he got through high school, people thought he was weird enough that they didn’t bother. And when he started swimming competitively, the attention returned. Haru takes a step back, too scared to hope that Sousuke loves him for anything other than his face. After all, Sousuke has seen some of the worst parts of his personality, and it’s unfathomable to Haru that Sousuke could love that.

 

“Why?” Even to his own ears, Haru’s voice sounds broken and doubtful, even though he tries to keep his tone normal.

 

Sousuke clasps his hands tightly. He wants to reach out to Haru and erase the pain he hears, but he knows it’s probably not welcome. He can’t hide the concern in his eyes.

 

“You’re strong.” His voice quavers as he speaks.

 

Sousuke swallows the rising tide of emotion. There’s an ocean of feelings threatening to crush him, and it’s difficult to find the words he needs. Sousuke feels sweat in the palms of his hands even though it’s a cold day.

 

“You’re beautiful–just–the way you swim and your eyes…”

 

He doesn’t add just how much he thinks about those eyes, because while he is trying to be honest, Sousuke has limits.

 

“I’m just trying to say, that I–I love all of you,” he finishes, his throat tight and dry.

 

Speaking of limits, he can’t seem to maintain eye contact anymore. There’s tension in the air between them, and it’s starting to choke him. His determination from before is waning, and he’s thinking this is less and less of a good idea by the second. Haru has listened to him, but there hasn’t been any hint of forgiveness. There are things better left alone, and Sousuke’s thinking that maybe this is one of them.

 

He lets his hands fall to his side. He’s tried a couple times now, and he’s said all he could; there’s nothing left for him to do. Sousuke is calmer than he was the night before–more resigned. After a moment, his shoulders relax, and he has the strength to lift his head up to look at Haru again. Haru has his own eyes downcast, and Sousuke can’t read him at all. Is it annoyance? Some kind of hurt? Anger? Sousuke can’t fathom Haru’s emotions at all, and the longer the silence draws out, the more he worries about what Haru is thinking. It’s clear, he thinks, that Haru does not return his feelings, and Sousuke has accepted that. All he wants now is to know if Haru hates him or not. Maybe it would be easier if he did.

 

The silence reaches a breaking point, and Sousuke can’t stand the tension in the air for another second.

 

“I’m leaving,” he announces, turning on his heel.

 

His intention is to go somewhere else; somewhere he can be alone and left alone. He doesn’t want to talk to Rin about this yet, and he knows his best friend will ask. Sousuke’s first step is slow. Perhaps there’s a lingering hope that Haru won’t let him go, and he wants to stay within reach for as long as possible.

 

Haru watches Sousuke’s back, the weight of knowing how much he didn’t do weighing heavily in his mind rooting him to the spot. He feels like if he lets Sousuke go now, he won’t get another chance. Through the maelstrom of emotions and anxieties, he can single out a fear that Sousuke will hate him. As Sousuke is about to walk too far away, Haru reaches forward his hand grasping the sleeve of Sousuke’s coat. It doesn’t take any effort to stop Sousuke. The moment the taller man feels the slight tug on his sleeve, he freezes. He hates the sudden surge of hope, and he hates himself for stopping so easily.

 

Sousuke has no more words, so he waits for Haru to speak, or just to continue holding onto him. He doesn’t want to admit how much Haru’s hold on him means, but the strong tremors in his chest belie him. Haru clenches his sleeve more tightly in his fingers. Sousuke doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want to see Haru’s face, because he doesn’t know if he can take it. He doesn’t know why Haru stopped him, but he can’t bring himself to ask.

 

“Time.” Haru’s voice comes out as a gasp, and the definite waver makes Sousuke snap his head around.

“I need…time.”

“Time?” Sousuke echoes.

 

Haru isn’t quite looking at him and isn’t quite looking away. There’s an unnatural shine to his eyes. His cheeks are red from the cold night air, and his eyes look a little puffy as well.

 

“Wait, don’t–“ Sousuke starts.

 

His words are stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to be the reason Haru cries, and he doesn’t know what he said. _If anyone cries, it should be me!_ Sousuke turns fully to face Haru, his arm still tight in the shorter man’s grasp.

 

“Do I have a chance?”

 

A moment after he asks, Sousuke finds himself swallowed by Haru’s watery blue gaze. Another moment passes, and Haru is looking down again. Haru gently releases Sousuke’s sleeve, his fingers just barely brush over the back of Sousuke’s hand as he lets go.

 

“Yes.” Haru affirms. “Maybe–I don’t know.”

 

He turns half away from Sousuke.

 

“Yes,” Haru decides quietly.

 

After a moment, he adds an almost inaudible, “I’m sorry.”

 

Haru runs away. Sousuke watches his back in shock. It takes a second to realize that Haru is literally running away from him. Confusion is the first emotion that hits him. There’s some anger that Haru has to be so indecisive, and some anger at himself for even starting this. Haru is half a block away, and Sousuke knows he could catch up; Haru is slow on land, after all, but he doesn’t.

 

The last few things Haru said ring in Sousuke’s mind. One, he has a chance, and two, Haru apologized. It’s another thing Sousuke can’t figure out. Haru hasn’t done anything wrong, in particular. There are things, of course, that Sousuke wished they’d both done differently, but nothing is Haru’s fault. The main thing on his mind is that “yes,” though. He still has a chance; he still has hope.

 

He thinks back to the irises. Maybe they were the perfect choice, after all. The bouquet is still clutched in Haru’s arms as he runs away. He’s almost two blocks away now, and is starting to slow down. Sousuke thinks he sees Haru glance back, but the street is dark, so he can’t be sure. There’s a loneliness that settles once Haru is out of sight. His mind is left full of Haru and the color blue. He wants to chase after Haru, but he also wants to wait. He wants an answer, but he knows it can’t be forced. He feels lost, and it takes a couple seconds to realize that it’s not just figuratively.

 

He finds his way home, eventually, and goes straight to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhh that's over. Mostly. Writing conversations like that is not easy, because I'm the type who totally runs away from that stuff//cries. I hope this isn't OOC. I kind of feel like I should rewatch Free! lol
> 
> edit: I drew my own little fanart, so I put it at the end


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another conversation, another change.

That night, Haru lies awake for several hours. His ability to fall asleep is hindered by the storm of emotions in his mind. He is tired. While the first part of his day was fine–he just went to work–the second conversation with Sousuke has given him quite a lot to think about. Haru tosses and turns for more hours than he’d like to count, but he also has no desire to get out of bed and grab his sketchbook.

 

It’s well past three in the morning when Haru’s eyes finally close in a fitful sleep. When his eyes open again, the rays of sunlight that pour into the bedroom window tell him it’s early. Haru is exhausted, but he doesn’t feel like he can fall asleep again. After a couple of minutes lying and staring at the ceiling, Haru manages to roll over and look at his alarm clock. It’s only a little past seven in the morning, and the ex-Olympian lets out a long sigh. A good night’s sleep would have been nice, but as it is, he feels like he hardly slept at all.

 

Sousuke lingers heavily in the back of his mind. There’s not a good answer for what he’s supposed to do. Sousuke has done everything he should have and more, and now it’s Haru’s turn to take action or not. In many ways it would be easier to run away. He could just never pick up the phone if Sousuke calls, and avoid seeing him when he sees Rin and Makoto. But the mere thought of never seeing Sousuke again makes him feel sick, not that the thought of having to figure out how to tell  Sousuke his feelings is much better.

 

Haru ways his options in his head as he cooks himself breakfast. Monday is the day he has off of his 6 to 10 shift. It’s not like Takahashi needs him to help with the baking anyway, but he supposes it makes the work easier when there are two people. In any case, Haru has a whole day open ahead of him. He has a whole day to decide what to do about Sousuke, and also himself. Haru is so preoccupied, that he manages to leave the mackerel in the frying pan for a little too long. The fish is charred, but it’s still edible. He sits at the table nibbling at the blackened fish.

 

At a quarter ‘til 8, Haru decides that Sousuke should be awake. He probably has work, so if Haru waits any longer, Sousuke will be busy. Haru sets the frying pan in the sink along with the dishes and weighs his phone in his palm.

 

Sousuke picks up before the first ring is completed.

 

“Hey,” Sousuke answers, and it sounds like he’s somewhere that’s crowded with people.

“When are you free?”

“Uh…after 5, if I’m lucky–No, I’ll be able to meet any time after 5.”

“The park about a block away from where we had lunch on Saturday.”

 

Haru hangs up the call. When he does, he feels a load of tension he didn’t know was there release. Now, he really has a whole day ahead of him. Free time is nice. He can draw, and maybe even have enough time to paint something. There are a few unused sheets of watercolor paper in the closet somewhere. It’s been a long time since he painted, because drawing is usually easier. The first color he puts down is blue. It’s a light wash just tinting the paper. Haru finds the color calming, because it means water.

 

Unlike some painters, he doesn’t sketch out what he’s going to paint in pencil. Each brushstroke is just a continuation of the flow of the painting. Pale blue darkens into indigo, and Haru finds himself painting the sea again. He adds a dolphin to the side of the painting highlighting its back in white paint. When he steps back, the painting looks unbalanced. Haru starts adding the vague image of another animal, when he stops to think about it. Another dolphin might work, but there’s too much open space in the painting for a single dolphin to fill, and not enough for more than one. He’s put dolphins and orcas in pictures together, but it doesn’t feel right. The black and white is too much of a contrast in a painting that’s all varying shades of blue.

 

He keeps defining the shape of the second animal, still unsure of what it’s going to be. Maybe it doesn’t have to be realistic. He leaves it as sort of a shadow in the background, but as Haru adds white to the painting to finish it off highlighting the water and the shine in the dolphin’s eye, the painting still looks incomplete. After a moment’s consideration, he adds white spots to the other animal. There, done, the composition is finished. It’s a dolphin and a whale shark. Haru leans the board with the painting attached to it against the wall.

 

It’s time to clean up. Haru picks up his brushes and puts his paints back in their box. He doesn’t notice the implications of the painting he just finished, and doesn’t think about it as he washes the blue out of his brushes and sets them on the side of the sink to dry. When he returns to the living room, he glances at the clock only to see that he still has six hours before he goes to meet Sousuke. At the thought, he feels the shadow of anxiety for a moment. Even though he knows Sousuke will probably be patient with him, it’s still a nerve-wracking thing to do.

 

Haru spends the better part of the next six hours in the public pool. Since it’s the middle of the day, only one other person is there. It’s an old man who doesn’t have to go to a normal day job. Haru swims only a couple of laps to keep himself in shape, but the rest of the time is spent floating aimlessly or quietly diving under the water just to relax in the calming depths. Even as he sits at the bottom of the pool, he can’t clear his mind entirely like he usually does. He keeps thinking of Sousuke.

 

He showers in the locker room, and leaves with just enough time to go home and drop his swimming things off. Haru stands in the park under a streetlamp. He figures it’s the best place to stand, the one with the most visibility. He hopes Sousuke finds the park without trouble. Though, remembering Sousuke’s penchant for getting lost, his mouth quirks a little. Haru leans against the pole of the streetlamp feeling a hundred times more relaxed than he thought he would be. He stares straight ahead, watching as the park as the sky darkens and the people that walk down the busy street that borders it.

 

“That was faster than I expected.” Haru looks up at the familiar voice.

“Sousuke,” he acknowledges the other man’s presence. “Let’s sit.”

 

Haru walks to one of the benches that line the park’s paths. He sits and one end and Sousuke at the other. Sousuke is quiet, and Haru knows he’s waiting to hear what Haru has to say. As he stares at his hands folded in his lap, the silence of the park feels a lot heavier.

  
“I don’t know if I can handle a relationship,” Haru says, hoping Sousuke remembers without prompting.

 

He doesn’t include the part where he’s not sure if he can even return Sousuke’s feelings properly. It’s foreign, new, and he’s sure he’s never felt this way before, but he’s not sure if it’s enough.

 

They sit for another moment silence resting in the air.

 

“Will you try?” Sousuke’s voice is hardly louder.

 

The question is gentle. Haru knows, already, that Sousuke will give him space. He can see that Sousuke would give him a place to truly return to without clipping his wings. Yes, with Sousuke, he could be free but not be lonely. For a long time, he thought those things were impossible to have at the same time. There’s a glimmer of hope, that Haru hasn’t let himself feel since his early days in high school. It’s a longing for love, a longing for someone who will accept him as he is and let him move at his own pace.

 

“I will.”

 

The arm that finds itself around Haru’s back is warm and comfortable. Sousuke–Haru realizes–is comfortable. Haru leans into Sousuke a little, not returning the hug, not yet. If this were anyone else, Haru would have sat like a statue. The only word he can use to describe how it feels is: warm. Sousuke is warm and alive. He feels safe where he is, even if he’s outside sitting on public bench, because Sousuke is there.

 

“Thank you,” Sousuke murmurs, and Haru isn’t sure if he actually hears Sousuke speak or if it’s just a thought lost in the wind.

 

Haru lingers in the warmth. It’s so different from the warmth he receives from his friends, and he can’t place why. Is this what it means to be in love? Haru lets his head rest against Sousuke’s shoulder. He remembers the warmth of Makoto’s hand when he pulls Haru out of the pool, and Nagisa’s as he hugs Haru, and Rin’s with his arm draped over Haru’s shoulder, but they’re all different. Their warmths are reassuring in their own way, but they don’t reach all the way into Haru’s chest. 

 

“Hey, ‘Suke, movie tonight?” Haru turns his face upward to meet Sousuke’s gaze.

“Yeah.” 

 

Sousuke smiles. Haru has seen him smile before, but this time it’s different, because this smile isn’t for anyone else. It’s a smile that’s as much Haru’s as it is Sousuke’s. Haru looks away. He’s not used to warmth.

 

“I’ll see you at eight. Over there.” Haru nods down the street where the sign for a cinema can be seen. “I won’t forgive you if you’re late.” He adds.

 

Haru walks away and it feels like the world around him starts again. He can hear the sound of the taxis on the street and the sound of conversations as people float by. There’s the honking of car horns and the opening and closing of doors accompanied by little chimes. Haru takes a breath, and it feels different than it did before talking to Sousuke; it feels lighter and easier to breath. How does being in a relationship make his world shine? Haru has no idea, but there’s a sense wholeness in his life. As he walks home, there’s almost a spring in his step.

 

When he reaches his apartment, some of the initial glow has faded. His heart's still pounding in his chest, and it’s hard to believe the events of the past few hours actually happened. He still feels like he doesn’t know Sousuke. Their feelings are a mystery to each other, and that in itself is terrifying. Haru has no sense for how Sousuke reacts to things or what his favorite color is, but there’s an undeniable something that draws Haru to him. He has no choice but to accept that for the moment. Maybe someday, he’ll understand why Yamazaki pulls him like an opposite magnet. That is, if they last that long.

 

At the single negative thought, Haru’s mood is thrown into chaos. There are too many uncertainties in his life. There are an endless possibilities of futures he hadn’t considered before and they all start with Sousuke. As he thinks about it, he realizes that Sousuke has the power to make or break him mentally and emotionally, and there isn’t a single thing he can do to change it.

  
Ten minutes later, Haru is in the bath again, water up to his chin. There are a million things to think about, and it’s impossible to choose just one. Haru closes his eyes. What has he gotten himself into? He doesn’t regret Sousuke, not yet, and he hopes he won’t. The tremors in his chest still haven’t settled and he can’t seem to wipe the image of Sousuke’s smile from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I've finally connected to some of the chapters I wrote earlier, lol. Hopefully this makes sense, and there's a little more looking up from here…probably. Still, Sousuke hasn't even thought of talking to his parents, and there's a long way to go before they really understand each other.
> 
> As always, this unbeta'd, so let me know if there are errors or inconsistencies OTL


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cute date chapter.

Haru stays in the tub for a long time. He has a boyfriend. Sousuke is his boyfriend. That’s what they are now, right? People do this. They get together and they date. Sometimes they stick together and some of break apart. A relationship is a risk, but he’d given Sousuke a part of him whether he wanted to or not. Haru sinks lower in the water as he thinks about the possibility of getting hurt. At the moment, he believes Sousuke will never purposefully hurt him, but he also thinks there’s not a chance in the world that they’ll “make it.”

 

The water is cooling off, and Haru feels a slight chill up his spine. His most constant companion is water, and its presence is both comforting and lonely. The water splashes lightly at the sides of the tub as Haru makes a little movement. Water is living but not alive. He lifts his hand and lets it drop through the surface. There’s a larger splash. Water is safer to be around than any human. If it hurts him, it’s not because of malevolence but because water keeps moving with no regard to any obstacles.

 

Haru looks at his body through the water. It’s distorted by ripples and looks inhuman in a way. His skin is pale. He rests his hands on his knees. Does Sousuke want this part of him, too? Something clenches in his stomach. Haru’s not opposed to the idea of someone touching him, but whenever he thinks about specifics it terrifies him. He tolerates hugs and touches from other people, but he never initiates or craves them. He runs his hands lightly over his body wondering if there’s something wrong with him.  For as long as he can remember, there’s no one he’s wanted to touch or wanted physical comfort from, but he doesn’t mind Sousuke being near him. No, it’s more than “doesn’t mind,” he wants closeness, but he has barriers.

 

Several minutes later, Haru dresses for his date. Yes, it is a date. His heart is already pounding even though he tells himself it’s only Sousuke, though that’s the problem isn’t it? Haru picks another oversized sweater. It’s a white sweater and the hem comes to the upper part of his thigh. He wears dark skinny jeans under it. Before leaving, he grabs his phone for good measure. His wallet goes in the back pocket of his pants, and he goes about slowly putting on a scarf, hat, and gloves. He delays leaving. Maybe it’s nerves. He does want to go, but it feels slightly ridiculous that he’s going on his first date ever at 25. It’s not like he hadn’t been asked out. In college, there were plenty of people who noticed his looks, and once he was an Olympic athlete, there were plenty of fans. But he turned every one of them down; he was never interested.

 

Haru finishes buttoning his jacket and turns the collar up around his scarf. He lets out a sigh as he glances around his apartment. He is ready to go; there’s nothing left to do. He walks towards the door slowly and unlocks it. Yes, he is really going on a date–a real date. He’s going to spend time with someone he likes. Haru lets himself out of the apartment and locks the door behind him. He feels anxiety start to bubble in his stomach, and he hopes that he won’t faint before he sees Sousuke, not that he’s ever fainted before. There’s a first time for everything, though.

 

Haru arrives at the cinema. He halts at the front doors for a minute wondering if he should wait outside. A cold wind makes his decision, and Haru slips into the lobby. It’s a Saturday night, so there are people everywhere. Most of them come in pairs. Haru watches them go, two by two, holding hands and laughing or fighting over popcorn. One particular couple catches his eye. They’re both girls, and most people would probably pass them off as best friends, but Haru thinks he sees something else between them. The two girls are waiting in line to get popcorn or soda or candy, and one has her arm gently slung around the other’s shoulder. It’s not a particularly romantic gesture in itself, but as they talk there’s a light in their eyes and a certain glow to their faces. There’s warmth when they look at each other. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but Haru finds it beautiful. Maybe he’ll draw them later.

 

Sousuke appears in his field of vision a few minutes later. Even though there’s a crowd, Sousuke is tall and as wider shoulders than most people. Sousuke glances around, clearly looking for Haru. Unlike Sousuke, Haru tends to blend into a crowd. His shorter stature makes it easy for him to disappear. After watching Sousuke search for a couple of minutes, Haru walks up to him. Haru taps him on the shoulder causing the taller man to jump a little.

 

“Wha–? Haru?” Sousuke relaxes as soon as he recognizes who it is.

“Hey,” Haru says, his mouth curved slightly.

 

They walk over to the box office. Of course they hadn’t chosen a movie earlier, so here they are. There are a couple of action movies, but most of the titles seem more serious. Neither Haru nor Sousuke are up to date on movie releases. After staring at the screen for a good ten minutes, they’re nowhere close to a decision. A lot of the titles sound too boring or too stupid. Another one sounds like a horror movie, and neither of them is particularly in the mood for that. After another five minutes, Haru picks one. There’s a moment after he chooses and they both stand still. Haru doesn’t want to go up to the ticket counter, but Sousuke is glances at him expectantly. It was Haru’s decision after all. 

 

Haru steps forward, and tries to keep his hands from shaking. He speaks in a quiet voice, and the woman sitting on the other side doesn’t hear him at first. Haru clears his voice and tries again. This time, she looks up and glances at both him and Sousuke. She types something into the register, and the tickets print. She gives him a price. Haru fumbles for his wallet, but Sousuke beats him to it. He glances up at Sousuke, questioning him.

 

“I asked you–and I suggested the movie.” Sousuke pays for the tickets anyway.

 

Sousuke stows his wallet back in his pocket. Haru wonders if that’s a good reason. He has no idea how dating etiquette goes. He may have learned something if he listened to other people talk about it. Certainly, Nagisa always had a lot to say from talking to girls and Rin had dated a number of people, but Haru never paid attention. He’d never had someone that he would want to date.

 

Sousuke hands him his ticket as they head toward the concessions, and there’s a spark of something like electricity as their hands touch. Haru lingers for a moment before tucking the ticket into his pocket. His fingers still feel a little warm, and he wonders if Sousuke felt it, too.

 

“I’ll pay for popcorn, or something.” It seems fair, Haru thinks.

 

When they make it to the front of the line, Sousuke orders a large popcorn, and Haru gets his wallet before Sousuke has a chance to reach for his. Sousuke gives him a glare, and Haru returns it with a small smirk. He freezes, his eyes still locked with Sousuke’s. This is so easy, so natural. Haru turns away quickly and finishes paying for the popcorn. Sousuke takes the bucket as Haru pockets his wallet, and they head for the theaters. It’s simple, just walking next to someone, and stealing a piece of popcorn. Yet, Haru’s heart is going a million miles an hour, and, at the same time, he feels calm.

 

They find seats toward the back of the theater, and Haru thanks whatever deities watch over them for the mostly empty theater. He knows, logically, that the other people aren’t looking at them and are instead focused on the giant screen in front of them, but Haru still feels nervous when he can’t see their faces. Luckily, it seems that all of the other patrons are sitting in front of them. Haru skims the backs of their heads with his eyes. They sit in twos and threes talking quietly and fighting over popcorn. Haru feels a little relieved as he assures himself that all the other people are just paying attention to their friends, their food, and the previews currently playing.

 

By the time the movie actually starts, the popcorn bucket between Haru and Sousuke is empty. Of course, Sousuke was the one who ate most of it. The bucket goes on the floor at their feet and then they sit. At first it’s comfortable. Haru sits straight in his seat, eyes idly on the movie. It’s some kind of stupid action mashed up with a romantic comedy, and he’s not actually that interested in it. Beside him, he can feel Sousuke’s warmth even though they’re not touching, and he wonders if it’s normal. As cheesy lines flicker by and someone crashes a car through a wall on screen, Haru finds himself leaning slightly closer to Sousuke. Looking down, he sees Sousuke’s hand palm-up on the armrest between them. It’s an invitation, he realizes, with a clench in his gut.

 

Haru, now distracted from the movie, stares at Sousuke’s hand. He’s not entirely opposed to dropping his own palm in, but he’s not entirely for it either. The contact he’s had with Sousuke so far has been fine, but holding hands seems more intimate, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready. He feels his own hands tremble slightly and his the tremors in his chest increase. He hazards a glance at the seat next to him, and sees Sousuke facing forward. A moment later, he finds his gaze captured by Sousuke’s, and Haru quickly refocuses on the screen.

 

Sousuke takes his hand off the armrest a moment later, and Haru sees it out of the corner of his eye. He feels a slight twinge of guilt, because he knows it’s an opportunity lost. In a subconscious effort to make up for it, Haru leans closer. The air near Sousuke is warm, and he can tell they’re almost touching. His heartbeat speeds again, and he squeezes his hands shut. His palms are sweaty and his hands still trembling. He lets his head relax a millimeter farther. He wants to close the gap, but at the same time he’s terrified. It’s a step he’s never been willing to take before. He doesn’t touch people. He doesn’t want to. And yet, there’s something buzzing in the couple centimeters between him and Sousuke, and he thinks that maybe touching someone else isn’t so bad if that someone is Sousuke. He lets his head drop the last little distance, and there’s a sudden increase in warmth. 

 

He can feel the wrinkles in Sousuke’s shirt. From earlier, he remembers it’s a dark gray. The fabric is soft, and it’s a shirt that’s probably been worn many times. It’s not particularly comfortable with his neck the way it is, and Haru adjusts a little. A moment later, Haru feels Sousuke rest his cheek on the top of his head. A sudden flush runs through him, and Haru knows he’d be red as a tomato if anyone could see him. He sends another glance around the theater and everyone else is still facing forward. Sitting so closely with someone else, Haru feels shyer than he expected to. He remembers being forced into watching a few rom-coms with Makoto or Nagisa, and he wonders why the writers make it look so easy. Sitting with Sousuke is comfortable, but it’s difficult to calm his heartbeat or distract himself from the way he wants to nuzzle into Sousuke’s shoulder.

 

There’s also a cramp building in his neck. Haru adjusts again, and he feels Sousuke lift his head slightly. In a new position, his neck is a little more comfortable, and they settle together again. He’s all but forgotten about the movie, because he’s caught up with his own heartbeat and the way Sousuke is so close to him.

 

Haru realizes he fell asleep only when he’s awakened by a gentle shaking and sees the credits rolling. It takes a moment to realize where he is, and when he does, he feels the blood rush to his face. He sits up straighter, and blinks a couple of times to rid himself of drowsiness. It’s embarrassing to have suggested a movie and then not stay awake.

 

“Sorry,” Haru mutters letting his shoulders slump slightly.

“For what?”

 

Haru looks up. Sousuke is rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn. Maybe he’s not the only one who fell asleep. In this moment, he feels younger than 25. They fell asleep at a movie like children, and he smiles a little at the thought. Haru is glad there’s only been sleeping on shoulders; he doesn’t even mind the slight cramp in his neck.

 

They both stand and stretch and put their jackets back on slowly. They’ve hardly talked during this evening, but the company was still comfortable. Haru buttons his jacket slowly, because he knows parting is coming soon, and he doesn’t want to. At the same time, he’s mentally and emotionally exhausted. It’s different than how he feels after a bout of social anxiety, but it’s similar. He’s spent the past few hours, other than the time asleep, trying to keep his heartbeat down, and it wasn’t easy.

 

They walk out of the theater and back through the lobby. When they walk outside, the cold air hits, and Haru crosses his arms against it. They pause outside of the doors. This is the moment when they say their goodbyes. Haru freezes. He doesn’t know what to do. If this were just hanging out with Makoto or Rin, he’d leave with a quick “see you later,” but that doesn’t feel right. He keeps his eyes fixed on Sousuke’s shoulder, because he’s not sure he can meet Sousuke’s gaze properly yet. His throat feels dry, and he squeezes his hands more tightly around his arms.

 

There’s a quiet sound above him, it’s halfway between a cough and an unuttered syllable. Haru looks up and sees Sousuke glancing down. There’s a dusting of pink on the taller man’s cheeks, and he doesn’t look Haru in the eye.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter of fluff is all you get. 
> 
> Yes, I am finished writing this, and I'll be posting the last few chapters once a week.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the date and how they deal. Sometimes you know what you want, but it's hard to say it.

_ Can I kiss you? _

 

Haru repeats the question in his. Alarm bells are ringing, and he takes a step back before he can even think about it. 

 

Haru puts a hand to his mouth. A kiss is mouth-to-mouth, he knows, and it’s so personal–too personal. Yes, he’s dating Sousuke. Wouldn’t it be normal to have a goodnight kiss? Haru can’t count the number of times he’s seen it in movies or read it in books. Before they part the young couple shares a kiss; they linger for a moment; and then they walk away, or they don’t. And Haru doesn’t want to think about what happens when they don’t.

 

He likes Sousuke. He’s sure of it, now, because if this were someone, anyone, else pushing at so many of his boundaries, he would have run away long since. He’s not sure what kind of like it is, and he’s not sure he wants to name it anyway. Haru presses his hand harder to his mouth, thinking. He wants Sousuke to like him, but Haru wants his boundaries respected. He bites his lip. Most people want to be kissed, and that most people probably includes Sousuke. Actually, of course it does, but Haru isn’t part of it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, speaking into his hand, and he can hear the slight hitch in his voice.

 

It hurts to say “no” but he can’t bring himself to say “yes” either. Haru keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, and he feels broken–wrong. People are supposed to go on dates in high school, and he didn’t. People are supposed to want to touch and kiss, and he doesn’t. Right now, he feels out of place. Does he have a right to date when he doesn’t want any of the normal things? Haru bites down harder on his lip. Sousuke deserves someone better than him–someone normal.

 

Haru turns to walk away. He has one foot in the air when a hand catches his wrist. He freezes. It’s another touch he didn’t ask for, but the hand is warm. He knows who it is, of course he does, and the electricity he feels at the contact doesn’t help his decision to run away. Sousuke drops his hand quickly. Haru’s back is to him now, but he doesn’t want to see his face.

 

“Stop trying to escape, I won’t force you.” Sousuke’s voice is a little angry but mostly disappointed, and that disappointment stings Haru the worst.

 

There’s a hidden “have a little faith in me” in Sousuke’s words. That’s the part that hurts. Haru doesn’t trust easily, but he thought he trusted Sousuke and thought that was reciprocated.

 

“Dammit, Haru, can’t you talk to me?”

 

A wave of guilt washes through him. It is his fault. Maybe he’s not built for relationships, and should stay out of them. It’s difficult to trust someone, and he doesn’t want to get hurt. Friendships can hurt enough. He never really wanted this kind of relationship anyway, did he? Feelings he buried long ago are being forced to the surface and painfully exposed.

 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking! I’m trying–I really am. Do you have some weird thing against touching? Is it me?”

 

Haru flinches. Sousuke’s voice is loud and his words, each one, cut into Haru’s mind.

 

“Is it my fault?” Sousuke demands, and Haru isn’t sure what he’s really asking.

 

The people exiting the movie theater hurry past them. Haru can hear them whisper, and he wishes they weren’t in such a busy place. Haru shrinks into his jacket. It would be better if the world disappeared around them. No, it would be better if he could just disappear.

 

“If it’s my fault, tell me. God damn it–did you want to say yes–to the dating thing? I’m starting to feel like I forced you into this, and–fuck–that’s not what I wanted.” Sousuke has a hand covering his eyes, so Haru can’t see his face clearly but he can hear the pain in his voice.

 

“I,” Haru begins, and he realizes he has no clue what to say.    
  
He’s not sure of his answers to Sousuke’s questions. His emotions are a mess now anyway, and the anxiety is bubbling up as each stranger passes by. He crosses his arms more tightly. Maybe if he holds himself together like this, his emotions will stay in check. His fingers dig into his biceps and it hurts, but not as much as the pain in his mind.

 

“Why would you want me?” Sousuke’s voice sounds broken, and for the first time, Haru hears a sort of half sob in Sousuke’s question.

 

It feels like the floor has dropped out from under them. Haru sees the situation. It’s twisted and chaotic, and he can’t think straight because of his own storm of emotions. He wants to reach out and comfort Sousuke or at least say something, but his body refuses to move and his mouth won’t open. All he can do is watch, helplessly. Each word Sousuke speaks reverberates in Haru’s head. It hurts to watch, but he can’t bear to look away.

 

“I’ve never been good enough–for anyone–so why would you be different? Or maybe I just fucked up? I mean–I fuck up a lot of things so–” There’s an unnatural curve to Sousuke’s lips; it’s a grimace.

 

“I’m an idiot,” Sousuke mumbles.

 

He lets the hand drop from his face. His eyes are a little red, but there are no tears. For that, Haru is thankful. In the little lull as Sousuke stands, staring at something no one else can see, Haru finds control of himself once more. His voice still doesn’t want to cooperate, so he settles for reaching a hand out and grabbing Sousuke’s. It’s the same hand he refused to hold earlier, but these circumstances are different. He laces their fingers together, ignoring the painful clenching in his stomach and the way his hands are shaking. He pulls Sousuke away from the movie theater and away from the crowded street. They continue toward their neighborhood and the people thin out. Haru stops under a streetlight. Sousuke opens his mouth to speak, but Haru beats him to it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he manages. He finds it’s harder to speak than expected, and there’s a lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Haru repeats, and he unconsciously squeezes Sousuke’s hand a little more tightly. “I don’t really know what I want…just, please–it’s not you.”

 

There’s a silence. When Haru musters the will to look into Sousuke’s face, he sees a surprised expression. Sousuke blinks when their eyes meet, and drops his gaze.

 

“It’s not just you, either.” Sousuke mutters under his breath.

 

Haru turns away. Emotional exhaustion and the toll that this kind of tension takes gives him one option. Disappointment in himself for running away builds in his chest with every step that takes him farther away from Sousuke, but he doesn’t stop, and he doesn’t turn around. He half wishes that he’ll feel the warmth of Sousuke’s hand closing around his wrist once again, but it doesn’t come. He stops at the corner of the next block. It’s the edge of the district with the shops and restaurants, and the street beyond it is dark. His head turns towards where Haru is sure Sousuke is still standing, but he catches himself before he looks.

 

In the time since high school, he’s learned to bear with more and run away a little less. Makoto has been there to help him or just been there when he decides not to run away, because Makoto is his best friend. That, and Makoto has more patience than anyone. Sousuke is different. He doesn’t want to cut their ties, not just after one date. They have their best friends to think about, too, and he knows Sousuke isn’t someone he can just cut out of his life. Haru wraps his arms around himself, still standing on the darkened corner wondering if he’s imagining the gaze that rests on his back.

 

Haru rocks back-and-forth on the edge of a decision. He wants to run. He wants to stay. He wants too many different things, and when he thinks of Sousuke’s face, he doesn’t want to hear the self-hatred there. That’s all he can hear now, and he repeats their last conversation in his head. It’s a conversation he’s had with Makoto in a very different way; it’s different, so different, hearing it from the other side. It’s easy thinking that he’s not worth anything; it’s something he sort of came to terms with, if you ever really can come to terms with something like that, a long time ago. But the way Sousuke blames himself hurts in ways that Haru doesn’t know how to explain.

 

Haru keeps walking. Each step is a decision not to stop and turn around, and he holds to it. The walk to his apartment seems to take much longer than usual, and he collapses on the couch after he enters without bothering to turn the lights on. Haru snuggles into the too-big sweater and stares at the floor. There’s a rectangle of light on the floor, because of the window and the moon shining through. He stares at it even as his mind keeps replaying the conversation with Sousuke.

 

Part of him even wishes he’d said “yes” to the kiss. It would be normal. It would’ve been easy. But, he didn’t do it. Haru’s fingers brush over his lips. It’s a soft touch. What would it feel like? Of course he’s seen the gross scenes in movies where couples make out up against the wall or whatever, and Haru doesn’t want that. It looks too close and uncomfortable. How is having your mouth on someone else’s supposed to be romantic anyway? He is curious, yes. He shouldn’t have apologized; he should have said “later.”

 

Half an hour passes, and Haru is still on the couch in the dark. Most other days, he would have drifted off to sleep, but not today. His mind is maniacally running through everything he could have done and didn’t and everything he did do and maybe shouldn’t have. It’s an exhausting pace to keep, and all he wants to do is sink into unconsciousness. Haru ponders talking to Makoto. Should he or shouldn’t he? If he keeps going around in circles in his own mind, he knows he won’t do anything and nothing will happen. That’s what he usually does: nothing. He would let go of something even if he wanted it, and it wouldn’t come back. He doesn’t want that this time. He’s lonely, but it’s different than the peaceful solitude he feels most of the time, like when he’s swimming. There’s something missing and that something left jagged edges in his chest.

 

He sits for another several minutes. His body cramps, but he also lacks the energy and the motivation to move. There’s nothing he would do except maybe go to bed, but he’s not in the mood for that either. Eventually, he registers that there’s a sharp rectangle digging into his hip. It takes another five minutes of worrying about his relationship and then coming back to the ever more intense pain in his right buttcheek to realize that it’s his phone. Haru finally convinces himself to move and place the phone somewhere less painful.

 

By chance, or maybe something a little more romantic like fate, his phone rings the moment it’s in his palm. The screen lights up and he sees the little notification: Yamazaki is calling. He stares at the name for a moment. Of course, he left Sousuke in his phone as just a last name, but looking at it now, it feels so impersonal. He stares at the phone wondering if he should answer the call or not. As he’s about to set it down on the table, he’s reminded that Makoto has always told him communication is important. Maybe he should answer. His finger hangs over the answer button. He presses down a moment too late. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as the new notification pops up:  _ call from Yamazaki missed. _

 

He stares at the phone even as the light times out and the screen goes dark. It’s another chance missed, and there’s a choking feeling in his throat. It’s another time he’s let Sousuke reach out to him, and all he’s done is pull away. No wonder Sousuke thinks that this isn’t something he wanted. There’s a bitterness that he can taste in his mouth. He does care; he does, but he can’t force himself to admit it yet.

 

Haru changes Sousuke’s contact to “‘Suke” and puts his phone down. He wants to talk to Sousuke, but he can’t bear to dial the number. So he waits. Haru stares at the wall his mind full of turmoil as he waits–hopes–for Sousuke to call again. He promises silently that if Sousuke calls him one more time, he’ll answer it. He’s had time to figure out a little bit of what he should have said, and maybe he’ll have a chance to say it. The phone remains silent, and he curses himself for being hesitant earlier and not just answering it. He still can’t bring himself to reach out to Sousuke.

 

Another several agonizing minutes pass, and his phone doesn’t ring. Haru flings himself from the couch in a sudden spurt of anxious energy. He can’t sit still any longer even though he doesn’t want to move. Haru goes for his sketchbook. He fills the page with mindless scribbles. The things he draws don’t have names or real forms. They’re blobs of different shapes and sizes and the drawings are all dark. He’s pushing the pencil into the paper more than usual, and it’s mesmerizing to watch the dark lines fill the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, please don't kill me lol  
> Some of you saw this coming, and next chapter is the last one!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another conversation, and how it goes.

Haru is still drawing an hour later. There are countless pages filled with the same sort of murky scribbles now. In the middle of a line, his phone rings. He drops the pencil instantly. Haru kind of hates the way there’s a rush in his chest at the thought that it could be Sousuke. It isn’t. He feels bad for the disappointment at seeing the name “Makoto” on the screen, but he can’t help it, and he tries not to linger on the feeling. Haru leaves the sketchbook in his lap and holds the phone up to his ear.

 

“Makoto,” he answers.

“Haru-chan.” Haru flinches at the nickname, but doesn’t say anything. “Haru-chan, Rin just got off the phone with–well–”

 

There’s the sound of Makoto swallowing nervously, and Haru tries not to think about Rin and Makoto in the same hotel room again.

 

“Rin was just talking to Yamazaki–I mean Sousuke–and, Haru, I don’t want to push you. I don’t know what happened, but Sousuke probably wants to talk to you. I can come over, if it would make you more comfortable–so you’re not alone. Just, can you call Sousuke? Or tell me what’s up?”

 

Haru remains silent. He knows what he should do, but being told like this feels a little bit ridiculous. He doesn’t need babysitting. He’s 25, and he can take care of himself.

 

“I’ll call him,” he says simply and hangs up the call.

 

He knows it’s a little rude, but he doesn’t have the energy to talk to Makoto. He’ll make it up to his best friend later. He doesn’t want to be asked any questions, and he doesn’t want to hear what Rin has to say. He knows Rin, and he knows Rin will want to talk if he’s there. Haru lets his hand rest on top of the sketchbook. The phone screen is bright in his dark apartment, and he feels more alone than he did before Makoto called. Haru tries to ignore the feeling and focus on the task at hand. Of course, he doesn’t really have to call Sousuke, but he wanted to. And now that Makoto’s given him that extra push, he is going to. He is. Once he has something to say, that is.

 

The sketchbook is set aside. He doesn’t need it right now, because scribbling abstract lines will get him nowhere. It’s not like he’ll accidentally write out the perfect words to say. He clutches the phone more tightly in his hand. Just thinking about it won’t get him anywhere. Like in swimming, you have to dive in and then you’ll know what to do. Right? Haru hopes so anyway. He pushes the “call” button before he has a chance to second guess himself or change his mind. Sousuke doesn’t even let it ring once.

 

“Haruka?”

 

Haruka feels an inexplicable warmth at the sound of Sousuke’s voice and the way his name sounds. He did want this–does want this. He calms himself with that reminder and repeats it in his mind like a charm. He was ridiculously happy when he walked away from their earlier conversation no longer single, and he shouldn’t let that go. There will be ups and downs, he tells himself–it’s normal.

 

“Hi.” The word is a breath. He still has his voice; he hasn’t panicked yet–not completely, anyway– and hopes he won’t.

“I,” Sousuke starts, but Haru cuts him off. Haru needs to speak, to somehow get some of the feelings in his head into words.

“Wait.” Haru lets the word hang in the air as he tries to funnel his feelings into comprehensible Japanese. He struggles for a few seconds, and all he can manage is: “I’m sorry.”

 

He thinks apologies are cheap, but it’s all he can muster. Sousuke doesn’t respond, and so Haru opens his mouth again.

 

“I’m…not good at this, but I do want to do this. I do want to be with you.”

 

On the other end of the phone, Sousuke is holding his breath. He’s trying to be calm, and he knows he snapped, but who wouldn’t? Patience isn’t one of his qualities, and though he is working on it, he occasionally fails. He’s come to terms with the fact that, yes, he does want to be with Haru for whatever crazy reason, but it’s not easy. He’s had relationships before, with people he didn’t care about too much. They were so much simpler, because he wasn’t as emotionally invested, but this time he is. And that simple fact makes dealing with Haru a hundred times more difficult.

 

“Go on,” Sousuke prompts, and his voice sounds rougher than he intended. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you away–I’m not–I don’t really like touching. I mean, it’s ok, but…I need time.”

 

Sousuke breathes a sigh of relief he didn’t know he had been waiting to release. It’s just that. He gets it. Unlike Rin who hugs people when he first meets them, he doesn’t seek physical connections. Well, that’s not entirely true. On some lonely nights, he’s gone out to bars for a one night stand just to feel something. That’s different though. With someone he actually knows, or calls a friend, he doesn’t need it. He can deal with Haru wanting to wait for touching. That’s why he asked Haru for a kiss instead of just taking one.

 

“I can wait.” Sousuke ponders for a moment. “You’re ok with falling asleep on my shoulder, but what else?”

“You noticed?” Haru’s reply comes quickly and a little sheepishly.

“Holding hands?” Sousuke flinches at the slightly desperate tone of voice.

“Maybe…yes.” 

 

Is Haru teasing him? Sousuke sinks into the couch in his living room. It’s been a long day. He’s been happy, and sad, and almost angry enough to punch through a wall. He’s run through every emotion, and now he’s left out of breath.

 

“…fuck,” Sousuke murmurs.

“What?”

 

And Sousuke laughs, not because the situation is funny–because it isn’t–but because there’s a release of tension and that response is just so typical of Haru.

 

“What?” Haru repeats, and there’s annoyance in his voice, but Sousuke thinks he hears the hint of a smile.

 

After a few more seconds, Sousuke manages to calm his laughter. “Nothing.”

“It’s obviously not ‘nothing,’” Haru rolls his eyes. “Talk.”

 

Sousuke’s eyes widen a fraction. Haru sounds so confident, not that he sounded weak before, but there’s a sort of assurance in his voice. Sousuke can’t help the rush of warmth and love.  _ Yes, _ he affirms.  _ I love him _ .

 

“I…I think we’ll be ok.” Sousuke’s voice is soft. 

 

There’s a pause on Haru’s end of the phone. He may be reading into things, but he feels like this is another way of saying “I love you.” He clutches the phone is his hand wishing that he was actually with Sousuke, but also glad that he’s alone. If Sousuke was here, Haru isn’t sure he’d be able to think straight at all.

 

“You’re an idiot.” Haru’s response sounds a little constricted. “But, I guess I’m an idiot, too–because I like you way too much.”

 

He hangs up before Sousuke has a chance to reply. He’s not ready to say “I love you, too” when he’s not even sure what he thinks love is, but he’s satisfied and a little embarrassed about his statement. Maybe someday, with Sousuke by his side, he’ll figure it out.

 

Haru’s palms are sweaty as he sets the phone down on the table, and only as he doesn’t have Sousuke to focus on does he realize the abnormal beat of his heart and the way his hands are shaking. He feels a rush in his chest. It is comforting to know that Sousuke really does want this, and will wait. And there’s that, but there’s still a nagging feeling in his chest, because Haru knows what couples do. He’s never seeked information out, but it’s unavoidable. He trusts that Sousuke won’t push him. His worries aren’t gone, and, for now, this conversation was enough.

 

As he clutches his knees to his chest and sinks back into the couch, he can’t help the explosion of happiness inside him. It’s been awhile since he felt so unabashedly happy. The shiver in his spine is foreign and so is the smile on his face. It’s not just an upturn at the corner of his mouth; it’s a real smile. He buries his face in the crevice between his knees. He decides that someday, he’ll show Sousuke this side of him–someday maybe not too far into the future.

 

He realizes a moment later that he’s thinking about the future. For most people, it’s not something new, but to Haru, it’s something he’s always hated. He hated the questions his last year of high school the same way he hated the questions all the reporters asked when he said he was retiring from swimming. Hated the questions of if he’s dating someone and will he get married and have kids. He’s no more sure of what he’ll be doing in the future, but he knows who he’ll be doing it with. Haru files this under things he’ll tell Sousuke eventually, when he knows he can say it without shutting down or shutting Sousuke out. He squeezes his knees together a little more tightly.

 

“We’ll be okay,” he echoes, whispering softly to himself. 

 

And they are okay. They struggle; they stumble, but they manage to make it through with the help of their best friends. They’re okay a year later when Sousuke quits his job because of an argument with his father. They’re okay even as they dig through their pockets for change to help pay for the rent, because Haru’s parents stop sending money, too. They’re still okay when their anxieties threaten to swallow them whole. They move back to Iwatobi and settle for a quiet life. They learn to laugh when Rin sees them together and says “Oh my god, you’re  _ still  _ dating?” And Makoto elbows him in the ribs every time.

 

Each day, Haru’s smiles grow a little more frequent as he covers their walls in watercolor paintings. And each day, Sousuke finds himself falling a little more in love with the person he has beside him. It’s not perfect, because they’re human. There are times when they fight, and Sousuke spends the night crashed at Rin’s apartment, but he always comes home in the morning. Sometimes it’s just Sousuke with apologies tumbling from his lip, but sometimes he stops in at the florist shop before he knocks on the door of the house they share. He always buys blue irises. There are times when Haru leaves, too, and Sousuke finds him sitting on the beach staring at the ocean. 

  
They both learn to talk a little more and read each other’s silences, but it isn’t perfect. There are times when Haru sits in the tub with the door locked and times when Sousuke loses his temper. But it’s okay, because they wake up each morning with the person they care about the most only a few centimeters away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! I hope you're satisfied with the ending//sweats


End file.
